About Face and Old Ghosts
by clairon
Summary: Third part of my About Face series in which Templeton meets a number of phantoms from his past but which are more dangerous, the living ones or the dead? COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

Type: Angst/Adventure/Supernatural

Pairing: Face/Murdock…. but nothing graphic

Summary: Third part of my About Face series in which Templeton meets a number of phantoms from his past but which are more dangerous, the living ones or the dead?

Warnings/Content: Contains male/male relationship plus torture and drug abuse. Also some full-bodied soldier type language.

Disclaimer: I do not own the A-Team characters and am making no profit from this story, which is a work of fan fiction only.

* * *

**ABOUT FACE AND OLD GHOSTS**

"God, I am too old for this!"

The thought echoed unchecked around Peck's head. He didn't have the energy to stop it since everything he had was focused on continuing to keep his legs running along the wet street. His breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps and his lungs, straining at the waning supply of oxygen, were set to explode at any moment. Sweat was leaching out of every pore of his skin and his head was beginning to thump sickeningly in time with each fall of his feet.

He risked a glance behind him, could see the dark shadows gaining. It was a fair assumption they would – those guys were at least half his age and although Peck had kept himself fit, he knew he didn't have the stamina to keep this pace up for long.

He turned the corner pelting into an unlit alleyway. There were puddles on the sidewalk here and the way ahead was obscured by the gloom of the darkening night. Peck's legs were shuddering and threatening to give out at any moment. His desperation intensifying, he lifted the cell phone in his hand and pressed the last number redial button.

His voice was wheezing as he spat out. "Murdock! Murdock; where the hell are you?"

No answer. "Shit!" Peck stumbled on the slippery surface, nearly falling, he managed to right himself and keep on running.

A bullet whistled past his shoulder. Involuntarily Peck ducked his head lower as if that could make a difference. There was a point on his back mid way between his shoulder blades that started to itch as if waiting for the bullet to hit. Peck gulped, glanced behind him and then forwards again. His guts knotted as he saw the wire fence that stretched right across the alleyway looming up in front of him.

Shit! He couldn't climb that, not now! His legs were going to give up and dump him on the floor at any minute. An iced vein of fear shuddered down his backbone as he slid to a halt. Behind him he heard the deep, humourless laugh of his assailants over the raw harshness of his own laboured breathing.

He turned back, shivering as the hot sweat on his skin froze to the air temperature around him. He had blown it, screwed up again. He couldn't do this, not on his own. He should never have even tried, should have seen that this was the only way it was ever going to end; a dirty, dark alley stinking of piss, a shattered body only capable of vaguely remembering its physical prowess of yesteryear and a cold bullet delivering the ultimate punishment for his over inflated confidence.

"Hands up, Peck!" A voice called. "This is the Police. We got you surrounded!"

Peck started, puzzled. But it had been the bad guys chasing him into the alley – where had they gone? And where in hell had the cops come from? Suddenly the final solution of a bullet seemed a better option than the years of imprisonment the police were touting.

Peck gulped, his lungs were still burning and his legs felt like jello. He didn't want to move, not to go back there. Desperately he glanced around and it was then that he saw it……

….. the smaller alley snaking away behind the building to his right. But this one wasn't dark and dingy, oh no, this one was white and spotless and glowing so brightly through the gloom that Peck had no idea why he had not noticed it before. It promised sanctuary and warmth; an escape from both the law and the bullet. And then the voice came to Peck's ears, enticing him, pulling him forwards.

"Face," the voice said and Peck beheld the brilliant bright figure before him, so vividly drenched with light that Peck could not make out the features. Still he knew the voice. "Hannibal?" he whispered hoarsely.

The figure of light appeared to beckon to him. "Do not be afraid, kid!" the unworldly voice continued. "Accept…"

Peck shook his head to clear it, turning back from the light. Away coming from the blackness there was the harsh rapport of a gun and an instant later Peck felt his chest finally explode but not from his own exertion, from the violent impact of a deathly bullet. His blood splattered out and up, decorating the wall behind him and covering his own face. It was everywhere, the stench of sharp gore up his nose, the echo and the squelch as it hit deafening his ears and the sting of blood in his eyes, blinding him, sending him into blackness; straight to hell…….

"NO!"

Peck sat up in the bed, heart thumping, drenched in sweat and mind reeling at the nightmare. Beside him Murdock stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and reaching out a supportive hand to lay it on Peck's shuddering shoulders.

"The dream again, eh?" he asked softly.

Peck nodded, his arms tightly stretched across his chest protectively, he dare not trust his voice not yet so he just turned to look over his shoulder at the other man.

Murdock's heart leapt when he saw the look of complete consternation in his lover's eyes. "Hannibal?" he ventured nervously.

Peck nodded again. "I can't …."

"Sshhhh!" Murdock placated as he reached forwards to envelope his friend in his embrace. "You don't need to talk about it, Facey. It's just a dream that's all."

Peck sighed. "You know what Father Carreras told me about nightmares," he said finally, voice raw.

Murdock nodded. "If you tell a friend, a nightmare will never come true," he replied warmly. "You don't have to tell me now, Face. It was the same one wasn't it, the one you told me about before?" Peck nodded. "The one you've been having for weeks."

Peck sighed, a long deep release. "Maybe a shower," he said. "I feel kinda dirty."

"Good idea!" Murdock beamed. He glanced over at the clock. "It's nearly time to get up any way."

Peck gently peeled himself out of the other man's arms. He stood and moved toward the bathroom but hesitated at the door. "Thanks, Murdock," he said softly.

"It's OK, Faceyman! All part of the service!"

* * *

Murdock sat in the diner steadfastly demolishing a hearty breakfast of waffles and syrup. He had left Face in the shower in their room, the feelings of inadequacy and frustration washed over him as they did frequently following the nightmares.

It was six months since Hannibal had died and Face had gone on the run. Six months since Murdock had given up everything he had built and followed his friend like a loyal lap dog. Murdock sighed as he thought back over the time, not allowing himself to question whether he had been right about the decision, it was the one he had made and the one they both had to live with.

They had argued the first weeks – Face insistent that Murdock should leave him and go back to his 'real' life. Murdock just as adamant that he would not, that he had nothing to go back for. They had talked it through countless times and many had ended with them screaming at each other. Peck had even left one motel in the middle of the night but Murdock had stoically followed him, hiring a car and turning up the next night at Face's new motel room door. Peck had tried to turn him away, shut him out, but in the end he could not find the strength to do it, for though the rational side of his mind could quite easily justify such action, his spirit ached for the closeness. To say they were both stubborn was quite an understatement and yet very slowly Face had come to accept what his heart told him; Murdock would not be denied.

It had gotten easier after that. They settled down a little and had some good times together – there had always had a deep friendship between them but that was intensified by the closeness of real intimacy. To use Murdock's own analogy they had spent a good deal of time reading together!

Murdock had known he would win the argument eventually because, no matter how obstinate Face was, after a lifetime bereft of tenderness and the shock of losing the only man who had been a father to him, Face could not reject what was being offered so selflessly by his best friend.

They travelled continuously across the country and back again – a different motel every night, a new city each day. Murdock watched his friend closely for signs that the constant change was getting to him but Peck was cool and controlled, scamming what they needed with ease, and though he never would quite be the man he once had been – but hell who was after what life threw at you? – he was getting closer to it. Being relentlessly on the run seemed to inspire Face. In a way it was like old times…. except half the team was missing – while BA was just a phone call away, Hannibal was gone and he was never coming back.

Peck dealt with the loss as he had everything else of importance in his life; he ignored it, pushed it away and refused to feel the pain, hiding behind his walls to stop himself from acknowledging it – some things would never change! And though he did not subscribe to it as a strategy, Murdock understood that it seemed to work for his friend. He had even begun to dare to think that they would survive; that Peck really did have such immense inner strength that he could endure, prosper even, after all. And then the goddamn dreams started.

The first few times both of them thought little of it. Hell, both men had lived through Vietnam; they knew that the terrors of the day could come back with increased viciousness in the dark hours while the rational mind slept powerless to resist. But the dreams began to increase in both frequency and intensity. Eventually Murdock persuaded Face to tell him their content and Murdock had spent enough time on the psychiatrist's couch to know that ignoring the pain was not going to work – Peck needed more than that.

Now they were in Oregon, travelling back south because Peck had decided that there was only one thing he could do to ease his aching soul. Murdock didn't like his proposal but he also knew that he could come up with nothing better. Still, going back to LA would surely only put Face in greater danger of detection.

Murdock chewed his waffle distractedly, his attention taken by a door banging shut across the parking lot. He stared towards the motel rooms and stopped with the next bit of his breakfast hovering half way to his mouth, transfixed by the sight.

Peck was walking towards him, dressed in tight jeans, and black leather jacket, he ran his hand through his shining damp hair as he talked casually on his cell phone. Oblivious of his adoring audience, Face appeared relaxed. Murdock drank in the sight of him – trim frame with no sign of middle age paunch, the jeans slung around the slim hips that could have been those of a teenager. The pilot's eyes moved upwards, he remembered when his fingers had run lovingly over that chest now covered by a t-shirt the exact colour of Peck's eyes. The familiar face was pale but still retained the ethereal beauty of its youth, made more durable but not diminished by the life experience, and though the golden hair was dimmed somewhat by the silver shot through it; he still looked good, damn good! Murdock itched at the vision so much that he lost the taste for his breakfast completely.

Face entered and smiled as he moved towards the pilot's table. "OK, I'll be there in about an hour. And I can't tell you just how grateful the President is gonna be over this one!" He was talking into his phone.

Murdock raised his eyebrows. Peck finished the call and sat down, as he did so he reached across the table and snaffled Murdock's coffee cup. He took a long slow drink, bright eyes beaming at the pilot from over the rim.

"I can get you one of your own," Murdock said.

"I prefer yours," Peck retorted smugly. "Always!"

"Want waffles?" Murdock offered the plate but Peck pulled a face and shook his head. "Your coffee's just fine," he said, emptying the cup. Murdock signalled for a refill.

"You gotta eat, Face," he tried but Peck just snorted. "So what's happening?" Murdock asked, not willing to push anything further than he had to; still wary.

Peck switched on his most dangerous smile. "Just sorting," he replied enigmatically.

Murdock shook his head. "The President?" he repeated. "Grateful?"

Peck nodded. "You bet!"

"Lord I hate it when you go like this, Face!" Murdock pouted. "It makes me nervous."

"Like what?"

Murdock speared him with his sternest gaze. "You are a man of very many words, Face," he began. "When you start giving two word answers to my questions instead of the usual six thousand, five hundred and seventy four, I know something's up!"

Amazingly the smile broadened. "Something's up?" Peck repeated, enjoying his little game.

"You're not gonna tell me, are you?"

Peck pursed his lips. "Might do." He took another long gulp. "Coffee's good!" he continued, looking around the room and smiling at the waitress. She stopped blowing bubble-gum bubbles long enough to smile back wanly.

"C'mon Face!" Murdock pushed now. "Who was on the phone and why are you taking Georgie Bush's name in vain?"

Peck smiled. "All will be revealed," he said.

"Hallelujah! Four words are twice as good as two!" Murdock said. "If you could double every time, we might get somewhere."

Peck sighed and stood up. "We going?"

Murdock looked frustratedly down at his half finished breakfast. "Why not? If you won't tell me, you might just show me."

Peck chuckled. "Of course," he replied, heading for the door.

Murdock snorted in annoyance as he left money on the table for the bubble blowing waitress. "Shit, Faceman," he muttered. "Why the hell did I ever get hooked up with you? You are one conceited, annoying little…" But as he walked out of the door that Peck had left swinging after his exit, his features curled into a languid smile as his heart thrilled at the thought of Peck's true self-belief returning. Wasn't that why he loved him in the first place?

* * *

TBA 


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

"My! She's beautiful!" Murdock muttered.

His sentiments went unheard as Peck was behind him closing the deal with the chopper's owner. Murdock was unaware of everything, he had eyes only for the state-of-the-art helicopter that sat on the pad in front of him.

Face came up behind him. "Reckon driving would take too long." His voice rose to reach the owner as he said, "Now let's go get the President!"

Murdock smiled. "Sure thing!"

They climbed into the cockpit. "Can you fly it?" Peck asked.

Murdock fixed him with a cold, confident stare. "Did Decker have piles?"

"How the hell should I know – urggh what a horrible thought!" Peck's features scrunched up with distaste. "Can you fly it?"

In answer Murdock flicked on the switches, the rotors began to whirl and within seconds they were rising into the air.

There were silent for a while except for Murdock's whoops of glee as he put the chopper through its paces. It had been a long time since he had flown and he had missed it, never realising how much until the pleasure was presented to him again.

Finally he turned to his companion. "Thanks, Facey," he said. "Still don't understand why though."

Peck snorted, avoiding the pilot's questioning stare, instead he chose to look out at the ground that flashed below them instead. "I'm sure that I don't always use six thousand, five hundred and seventy four words to answer your questions," he said touchily.

"No, you're right," Murdock's voice was stern. "I misrepresented the true facts there. Sometimes, especially when you are trying to change the subject, you use a hell of a lot more!" Peck pulled a scowl which got worse as Murdock continued. "And it hasn't passed by unnoticed that you are not beyond stooping to any level to get what you want."

Peck's eyes were wide as they came back to look at the pilot. "Murdock, I got you a chopper cos I knew you needed to fly." He ran his hand through his hair, nervously looking forwards again. "You get tetchy after a while and I was thinking of you." Murdock let out a guffaw and Peck looked hurt as he continued. "Honestly."

"Honestly?" Murdock parroted. "The only reason I know you know the meaning of the word is because you so completely disregard it all the time. I know life is just one big negotiation for you, Face. You give something, you want something back."

"Murdock! You wound me!" Peck was playing the offended innocent right to the hilt.

Murdock nodded. "OK, let me look into those gorgeous blue eyes while you tell me this chopper has nothing to do with getting you to LA as soon as possible, so you can carry out your crazy plan."

Peck snorted, looked away. "It's not crazy," he said sulkily.

"Oh no, not crazy at all. You just gonna turn up at Hannibal's graveside, have a little chat, put the record straight, chase off those demons and then walk on out. No hassle!"

"Christ I am not public enemy number one, Murdock! Embezzlement is not a hanging offence and I'm sure the LAPD have got a lot better things to do with their time than stakeout a war hero's grave!" Peck was fiddling with the buckle of his seatbelt now.

"I'm not thinking about the cops!" Murdock's exasperation could be heard in his voice. "There are other people with a more personal interest in you."

Peck sighed, nervy hand going back to his hair. "It's over six months, Stepford must be dead by now."

Murdock sent the chopper into a dive that forced them back into their seats. As he straightened the bird back again, Face glared at him. "What the hell was that for?"

"Sorry," Murdock said. "Had to avoid that pig coming in the other direction."

Peck's smile was tight. "Very funny," he muttered.

There were silent for a while before Peck sighed. "Besides maybe that's the way to go," he ventured.

Murdock looked at him, eyes narrowing. "What way?"

"Not slowly wearing out, losing your faculties until you can't eat or shit by yourself but down in a blaze of glory."

"You mean like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?"

"Exactly."

Murdock nodded. He hadn't liked the morbid way Face's thoughts were going but he couldn't ignore the fact that he liked this image. "You'd be Redford of course," he said.

Face smiled. "Of course."

"Which means I would be…."

"….Butch!" Peck rolled his eyes.

Murdock ignored the ironic gleam in his companion's eyes. "Yes," he said. "I like it." He shifted the stick and the helicopter swooped down a little more sedately than before but towards the ground below never-the-less.

"What you doing?" Peck asked.

"Looking for a good cliff to jump off like Butch and Sundance," Murdock replied.

Peck shook his head. "Murdock there are no 'good' cliffs to jump off! Jumping off cliffs is not good. In fact it's positively dangerous."

The pilot nodded. "Uh-huh," he agreed. "Just like you going to Hannibal's grave then, isn't it!"

Face groaned. He had really thought he had managed to divert Murdock's thoughts away from his plan. He knew it wasn't a very good one, in fact it was a down right unsafe one but something was pulling him back. He didn't know why but deep inside he knew that he had to make his peace with Hannibal or he would never be free of the dreams that haunted him. And he knew if he were to suffer them for any lengthy period of time he would not survive them. He felt suddenly tired and drained. "Look Murdock, I got the chopper for you, OK?" he began, his voice having lost the playfulness of earlier, it sounded as strung out as he felt. "You can believe what you want about my motives but I thought you understood me better than that. Either with or without your blessing I am going to do what I have to do."

Murdock sighed. He placed his hand on Peck's knee and squeezed it gently. "I know you are," he said softly. "And that's why I love you, Sundance!"

* * *

Peck drew in a long ragged breath as he stood motionless beside the grave. It was a scorchingly hot day, the sun blazing down from a smoggy blue/grey sky causing the heat to shimmer in the distance and making the very air appear to be melting. Peck could feel the pores of his skin evacuating sweat by the bucketful beneath his t-shirt and jeans as if to join in the overall liquefying experience. He was glad he had dumped his leather jacket in the car they had hired earlier but still he was seriously worried that if he stood out of the shade for much longer he would turn into a pathetic little puddle of grease and gore in the grass.

The cemetery was empty and the sounds of the road at the other side of the brick wall permeated into this quiet sanctuary only weakly through the sultry thick air, as if too hot to bother banging the sound molecules together. Face was alone and yet he knew that somewhere in the cool of the trees behind him Murdock watched, looking out for him, keeping him safe, as always.

Peck shuddered. He had expanded all his energy on getting here, now he had arrived, he was not sure of what to do. He looked down at the ornate grave stone but could not bring his eyes to fall on the words engraved there; words that decreed his Colonel's final resting place. Still Peck felt the familiar tingle at the back of his eyes as his vision blurred, he sniffed back the emotion – it served no purpose.

In his life, of all the people he had spoken to, he had confided in Hannibal more than any other. Still he had never been forthcoming about his feelings and Smith had had to work hard to get anything of note from him. Peck smiled ruefully as he remembered some of the conversations they had had. Relentlessly Smith had probed and pushed, eventually finding a way to get what he needed from his Lieutenant but the younger man had never made it easy for him. Before meeting the Colonel life had taught Peck to be circumspect about revealing his feelings. He had learned to hide behind his bland, shallow shell for years and in truth, Hannibal had been the first and possibly the only man, to ever reveal completely what lay beneath. He owed Hannibal so much and even through the years of their friendship though he had whined about plans and tasks, Face had kept his genuine fears deeply hidden.

He sighed deeply, not knowing if he could talk about them even now, not here, to a piece of land under which the Colonel lay. Hell, it had been hard enough to describe the content of his dreams to Murdock. He could not begin to articulate the base worries and concerns from which he suspected his nightmares bred.

He shuddered again, the cool flush running through his hot body was almost welcome in the heat. He knelt down onto the well kept green grass, its artificially watered and manicured blades sharp under his knees. He was hugely uncomfortable both mentally and physically.

"Hannibal," he released the name finally. "Jesus this is stupid!" He shook his head, tried again. "Hannibal I …. I'm sorry I wasn't there at the end. I should have found a way, should have got away from Stepford earlier, should have…." He hesitated again. For a man of many words he was having great difficulty finding any, let alone the ones that he needed to express himself clearly.

"Oh Lord," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. "What am I doing? What is your dumb-ass Lieutenant doing now? Smudge Marks would have made a better effort at it, I'm sure, eh Hannibal? It's just …. It's just that I miss you, I'm hollow inside and I don't know how to begin to fill up the hole you've left in me. I'm scared… scared to let you go, Hannibal, so I keep hold of you. Hold on so very tight that it's killing me." A tear broke from his eye and ran sweetly down his cheek. "I need to let you go… I know that. I need to stop dreaming about you cos it's doing me no good. But I just can't."

He sniffed, twisting his hands together. "Murdock's good for me and BA would come if I called but they're not you. You did all you could for me… hell of a lot more than you should but I have to do it alone now. Why can't I let you go? Why do I still believe you're gonna come marching over the hill, the goddamn cavalry come to rescue me like you did so many times before."

He drew in a deep breath. "It was stupid to come here, I know but I thought if I could see where you are, I could settle my demons … but it's not working, is it? Why am I so weak? Why can't I have a little of your strength? Hannibal?"

He wanted to shout, to beseech the earth and the sky! To rage at the grass and the trees, to weep, to scream, to beg … to do anything at all that would release his inner turmoil but instead he simply knelt by the grave, shivering slightly, eyes moist with their blue as he bit back his angst, his bitterness, his loss. He closed his eyes squeezing the emotion into small parcels, filing it away into the very depths of his mind, surviving, as he always had, by denying his pain.

He stood up stiffly. "I'm sorry, Hannibal," his voice was raw but soft. "I shouldn't have come here. There's nothing you can do is there? I should leave you to your peace, Christ knows you deserve it." Absently his hands brushed the grass cuttings from his pants and he turned to move away. But then he stopped, turning back to the grave with wide, expectant eyes.

Then his shoulders drooped a little and he sighed. "Shit, what the hell am I doing here?" he muttered. "You're not here are you, Hannibal?"

He walked away not looking back for he knew with complete surety that the answers he sought would not be found in this burning, unforgiving grave yard. As he reached the car, Murdock opened the door for him. The pilot was flushed and breathing heavily from running back. "Don't look now," he said. "You're being followed."

Peck groaned. "Who?"

"Pretty little blonde thing. She was hiding in the trees when I got there, watched you all the way. She's coming through the gates now." Murdock gently pulled the car out into the afternoon traffic, fiddling with the air con with his other hand.

As they pulled away, Face nonchalantly looked towards the cemetery. He let the breath whistle through his teeth as he saw the woman Murdock had described. "Not bad," he mused. "And not a cop for sure!"

Murdock snorted. "How can you tell?"

"The legs," replied Peck mysteriously.

"Oh?" Murdock raised his eyebrows but decided not to take it any further. "We need to find out more about her then."

Peck sighed and sat back into his seat, relaxing muscles he realised had been tense all day. "Maybe it's just the old Faceman charm," he mused.

Murdock threw him a knowing glance. "Maybe," he agreed. "Although not even you have boasted about women hiding in bushes to get a look at you!"

Face chewed his lip. "Not normally," he conceded thoughtfully. He looked back to where the girl could be seen hailing a cab. "You're right; further investigation is obviously required!"

* * *

TBA 


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

The cheap motel room was stuffy as the air conditioning unit struggled nosily to cope with the heat of a summer night. Way past its better days the unit sounded like the motors that pulled the roller coasters up to the top of the rides in the theme park only yards away across the bushy waste ground. The rides were running now pulling another load of excited, screaming tourists up to the very edge of oblivion before plunging them down into the queasy depths once more. It wasn't long until the glow in the neon lit sky above would be further enhanced by the brief extravagant beauty of the fireworks that signalled the end of the theme park's attractions for another day.

Peck was oblivious to the enjoyment just yards from his door, for he was on his own specific brand of thrill ride – he was dreaming again!

It was, however, a new and different dream this time. There was no image of an alleyway, no running and no pursuit. This time there was only the emotion, the fear, tearing at him, racing through him and pulling him awkwardly out from the oblivion of sleep. It was raw and intense and terrifying, forcing him to feel, petrifying him completely; so he lay on the bed, sweating and motionless, every part of his body imprisoned by his anxiety.

As he came closer to consciousness he had but a vague memory of what he had experienced just seconds before. He gulped in air violently, and then forced his breaths to come in and out more slowly, pressed the panic and the pain away, concentrating on nothing but control, until he dare move again.

He glanced at Murdock sleeping soundly beside him on the bed. The pilot snored softly and the sight brought Peck a brief rush of relief that he had not disturbed his companion. Lying back into the not-so-soft pillow, Peck tried to remember exactly what he had been dreaming.

He was afraid and he could recall the sense of loss but also of deep desperation. He glanced at the clock. It read 11.18. A strong wave of relief flushed through him at that but he did not understand why. He had survived! But survived what? From deep in the depths of his subconscious he managed to drag forth the fact that he had believed he was going to die for something. But what? It had all appeared so real in his dream, so obvious but he could only remember his sense of complete certainty, the actual facts remained illusively out of his reach. He snorted, forcing his mind to think. He was going to die at 11 o'clock… there was something he had not done and for that he was going to die!

He rolled over and sat up, throwing his legs out of the bed but careful not to disturb Murdock. What the hell did it mean? Why had everything appeared so blatant and why couldn't he remember it now? He stood up and slowly shuffled to the bathroom. He dabbled cold water on his face.

He hated it when his mind ran away from him. He wanted to be in control, he wanted to be sure but uncertainty ravaged through him. He sighed. The most frustrating thing of all was that in his dream he recalled that he had accepted his own death as if it was correct, as a punishment for something he had failed to do. He knew he had acknowledged that it was a fitting and deserved conclusion but he could remember no more, hard as he tried. Something he hadn't done, something important…..

"Shit!" he muttered, ignoring the fear that was pooling inside his gut once more, knew it wasn't going to help him.

"What's up?" Murdock was standing in the door way, bleary eyes blinking in the dirty bath room light, still bright compared to the darkened bedroom.

Face sighed again. "Sorry," he replied wearily. "Couldn't sleep."

Murdock eyed him suspiciously. "Couldn't sleep or couldn't sleep without dreaming?" he asked.

Face just snorted and pushed past the pilot making his way back to the bed.

"Same one?" Murdock asked as he followed.

Peck sat down, his head resting in his hands, elbows in turn on his knees. "Different," he muttered.

Murdock sat beside him. "Wanna tell?"

Face looked up, his eyes moist and dull. "Can't remember," he replied.

Murdock's own eyes narrowed. "Not enough words, Face," he said worriedly. "Talk to me, open up! If you don't tell it might come true, remember!"

Peck snorted ruefully. "Thanks for the encouragement," he said. Lifting his legs, he lay back on to the bed, pulling the thin quilt upwards.

"What you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

Murdock looked hurt. "Looks like you're going back to sleep but do you think you can?"

"Only one way to find out!"

Murdock moved around and climbed in his side of the bed. "It's gonna be all right, Faceman," he said softly.

Outside the bangs of the theme park fireworks started. Peck jumped but then managed to control his flinch into only a slight shudder. "How do you know, Murdock?"

Murdock drew in a deep breath. "Cos we're the good guys," he replied, his voice muffled slightly by the pillows.

Peck turned to look at him pensively chewing his lip. "Are we Murdock?" he asked. "How can you be so sure?"

Murdock smiled widely then. "Cos Butch and Sundance are the goodies," he said with such uncluttered certainty that Peck found himself nodding in agreement.

"Of course," he sighed with resignation.

* * *

Peck cleared his throat and knocked on the door once more. Hell! Why was he doing this?

It had seemed so easy when Mo had asked him but now he didn't even seem capable of getting into the room, let alone having a heart-to-heart with her son.

He had met Mo a couple of hours ago as she left work. Smiling as he approached her in the parking lot, he had rolled his eyes as he noted the badge on her chest which proudly proclaimed 'Office Manager' to the world.

"Promotion?" he asked as she hugged him to her affectionately.

Mo smiled. "Couldn't do any worse than the last one," she laughed. "You look good, Templeton!"

"Well deserved, I reckon," he replied. His smile broadened almost off the scale. "What can I say? I was born looking good!"

She laughed but then cast a suspicious glance over her shoulder. "Should you be here? I mean someone with your overwhelming good looks is bound to be noticed. Aren't you taking a risk?"

Peck chuckled, supremely confident. "What's life without a risk?" he asked. "Anyway I got the message you left on my phone – what's up?"

Mo took him home and filled him in on what had been going on. He had listened unsure as to how he could actually help until she had asked him to talk to Drake, her youngest son. Face had argued that he really wasn't the type of guy to deliver fatherly speeches; in fact he was so far from such a person that she needed her head examined to even consider him! But Mo had just smiled "What's life without a risk?" she repeated, eyes twinkling.

Which was why Peck found himself in the unlikely position of banging on the door of a teenager's bedroom, waiting patiently to be given permission to enter.

Finally a gruff response emanated from behind the door. It was not entirely encouraging but Face opened the door regardless and entered. It was a bright, airy room made dingier by dark colours of the gothic posters tacked on most of the wall space – crosses, skulls, scythes…. Peck's eyes ran over them with the merest of perfunctory glances. Not his interest at all. He looked instead at the boy lying on his back on the bed, catching a ball with his gloved hand and then tossing it back up again. There was a dark stain on the roof immediately above him that told Face the kid partook of this angst releasing exercise quite regularly.

Peck looked closer at the boy. Seventeen Mo had said and Face felt a tinge of the jealousy of an old man towards the promise of youth. Christ, at his age Peck was in Boot Camp, almost ready for his destiny in the jungles of Vietnam. But things had been different then, oh so very different.

This boy looked young, very young. His skin had the blotches and spots of the teenage years, his hair was long and drifting into his eyes. His body looked thin and rangy as if at that awkward stage of elbows and joints before the confidence of adulthood smoothed out his odd, angular anomalies. He was dressed in baggy, clothes and Peck suspected that when the kid stood up his jeans were so loose they would reach a natural resting place somewhere between his buttocks and his knees.

Peck stopped looking then – it made him feel old even to think it. Old and tired. He re-focused on the room, looked at the dresser, saw three photos there and moved closer. Maybe here was a chance to find an opening line maybe. The first photo was of a family of four – it looked like it had been taken a few years before, Mo was in it and the kid on the bed, both looking younger and somehow less world weary. There were two others in it – the father and elder brother, Peck surmised. He glanced at the second photo. It showed the elder brother in uniform – bingo!

"Your brother's a green beret?" Face asked with surprise.

The kid snorted. He had made no attempt to acknowledge the

other man's presence but continued to catch the ball disinterestedly. Face's eyes went to the third photo. It was of a young girl, blonde and sweet, smiling with innocent abandon at the camera. Peck reached out and picked it up. "Pretty girl," he muttered.

"Who the hell are you?" The kid's pubescent patience had suddenly evaporated and he turned to look at Peck for the first time, green eyes spitting their anger.

"Oh sorry." Face forced a disarming smile as he put down the photo carefully. "I'm Templeton Peck," he said reaching out his hand.

Almost despite his earlier tantrum the kid's face was suddenly impressed. He sat forward. "Faceman!" he gasped in awe.

Peck's smile quadrupled in strength – how he loved it when somebody (excepting the cops of course) recognised him. He felt the long yearned for warmth flame through his guts; the enduring memory of fame, although lost, still entranced and tormented him. "That's right," he beamed.

The kid took his hand and shook it, tamping down his astonishment. "I'm Drake," he said, trying to look cool and unconcerned but failing. Peck rolled his eyes, wanting to pursue the conversation topic centring on himself with the boy but knowing it would be purely to soothe his own vanity. To his ego's initial relief Drake answered the unasked question.

"My brother, Kyle – the green beret, he loved you guys when we were kids back in the 80s. Man, he had a scrapbook with all press cuttings in it. Jeez he was tedious about it!" The boy smiled. "For a while we always had to play at being you guys in the yard. Kyle, he was always Hannibal cos he said he had a plan. I always wanted to be BA but they said I didn't have any muscles." He snorted in disgust. "I always ended up being you!"

"I can think of worse people to be," Peck retorted defensively, telling himself he deserved the rebuff because of his unwavering focus on appeasing his own ego.

Drake sighed. "I guess."

"Bet you always ended up with the girl?" Peck suggested hopefully.

"I was ten, man – I didn't want anything to do with no girls back then." He smiled. "Although things change as you grow up. Reckon now I wouldn't be too upset to be like you!"

"Is that a compliment?" Face asked still fishing shamelessly.

Drake fixed him with an uncompromising stare. "How many did you have?"

"Compliments or women?"

"Women, of course!"

Peck sighed, a deep contented release of breath that spoke volumes. "Thousands," he said with a satisfied smirk. Then, remembering with a flash of guilt what Mo had sent him up to do, he carried on quickly. "Of course they didn't make me happy."

Drake's eyes flashed knowingly. "No?"

Peck ran a hand through his hair, sure he was more smug than guilty but out of duty to Mo determined to carry on with his mission. "There is no substitute for a deep, loving relationship," he said. And then an awful flashback of himself suffering very similar sermons on numerous occasions from Father McGill, stopped him from going further.

Drake snorted in disbelief. Peck raised his hands in mock surrender, his own arrogance winning over his sense of duty. "All right! I am the wrong person to give you this little talk – I admit that. I lived it to the full, I didn't care about tomorrow. I was full on in the fast lane. And what's more I would do it all again." He sighed. "But that's not what your mom asked me to talk to you about. She's worried about you, Drake."

"I know, but sometimes I can't talk to her. She's just too positive, too good about things. Lord I miss my dad, you know?"

Face nodded solemnly. "Oh yes," he responded with feeling.

Drake stared at him, eyes wide with understanding. "My mom told me about Hannibal," he said finally.

Peck gulped, suddenly unwilling to trust his voice, unwilling to reveal more. He moved away, feeling hot in the small room, searching for a change of subject. "Who's the girl?"

"Shannon; my girlfriend." Drake too appeared tight lipped and uncomfortable.

"She's very pretty," Face said.

Drake just looked miserable. "She's very pregnant!"

Peck sighed, fiddled with his tie. "Oh. That may explain things then. Your mom doesn't know?"

"No."

"Don't you think it would be kinda a good idea to tell her? I mean she can help you." Face eased himself down on the edge of the bed.

Drake turned away and started throwing the ball again. "We don't need help. I got a job, I was earning and we were putting money away. I was gonna tell mom when we got something sorted. I wanted to make her proud of me – she's always saying to me – 'Come up with a solution not a problem!'"

Peck made a sour face. "She get that from one of those management books I saw downstairs. She stared reading them since she got the new job?"

Drake smiled ruefully. "I blame the guy who got her old boss fired!"

"Guilty as charged!" Peck smiled. "So I guess I better do something to help. What do you want me to do, Drake?"

Drake pondered. "I was doing good. I had a job delivering parcels and stuff after school and at weekends. What I didn't know was that there was some 'secondary delivering' going on."

Peck's eyes narrowed. "Secondary delivery of illegal substances?" he asked.

Drake nodded. "They put pressure on me to join in but I don't want any of that shit. When I refused, the other couriers got me fired."

"That was a brave thing to do." Peck forced away his guilty thought that he would never have been that principled at seventeen – in fact he believed he would have been unable to walk away from the action! He had to admit that the kid before him, although he had no fashion sense, had well developed morals and Peck again felt a tinge of envy.

Drake shrugged. "I know the difference between right and wrong."

"You want your job back?"

"I don't know – I need the money. And I don't think it's right that I should lose it for doing the right thing. I don't think Mr Ramirez, the boss, knows what's going on and he was good to work for."

Peck nodded. "Well, I can't help you with your first problem – I'm strictly an old fashioned love 'em and leave 'em sort of guy but that doesn't mean that your adult attitude hasn't impressed me – I don't think I could be so honourable in your place. However lacking in ethics though I am, I may be able to help with the second issue – in fact that lack could be seen as a definite asset in this case. I'm thinking I could kick some ass and get the operation closed down, but it's your call. How about I get some evidence that you can present to your boss, see if he'll give you your job back."

"Could you really? That sounds awesome but I can't pay."

"There are other ways of paying. How about you pay me by coming clean with your mom; telling her about Shannon and the baby. Do we have a deal?"

They shook on it solemnly. Peck's smile was brilliant once more. "Maybe I'm not so bad at this 'fatherly talk' stuff!"

"Fatherly!" Drake chortled. "You're old enough to be my grandfather!"

That hurt and though it was technically true Peck sure didn't feel like it should be. "And you're still young enough for me to put you over my knee and beat a little respect into your arrogant hide!"

"Hey!" Drake raised his arms. "I'm a lover not a fighter! What say you take me for a beer instead?"

Face chuckled. "Couldn't have put it better myself! But I damn well know you are not old enough to drink – you could get me into even more trouble. Besides you need to talk to your mother!"

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**PART 4**

"Easy Face!" Murdock breathed, not wanting to distract his partner as the delivery truck spun around the corner in front of them.

Peck was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, his features set in concentration as he aimed the gun he had rested on the open window frame beside him. He was aiming at the delivery van's front off side tyre. Very carefully he squeezed the trigger.

The tyre blew and the vehicle slewed to an undignified stop at the other side of the road. "Piece of cake!" Peck muttered as he got out of the car and made to catch up with Murdock as he approached the van.

The driver, a young boy, with long unkempt hair that dangled greasily into his eyes, swore as he climbed out of the cab.

"Man, you got a blow out there, son," Murdock breezily said, kicking the flat tyre and wearing his 'stating-the-goddamn obvious' expression.

"Awwh shit!" The boy cursed. "I am so not gonna make my drops now."

"Uh-huh," Murdock agreed.

The kid opened his mouth to continue his whine but stopped when he felt the cold metal of Face's magnum pressed into the small of his back.

"Never mind, pal," Peck spat. "I am sure you can deliver the package to me that I want."

The boy shuddered. "I don't know what you ….." he stammered.

"Sure you do – it's real simple," Murdock said as Peck manoeuvred the kid back around to the driving side.

"You got a package," Peck hissed. "A special package. We want it now. What's to know?"

The boy was pale and drawn licking his lips nervously, as Peck pushed him into the cab. "You don't understand!" he tried again.

"No friend," Murdock said. "It's you that doesn't understand. He 's the one with the gun and you're the one who does as he says."

The boy hesitated for a further moment, his eyes flashing fearfully. "OK," he breathed. He leant forward, across the seats to click open the glove compartment. His hand reached out and fell upon the smooth handle of the gun he kept there. The fear left his eyes. Murdock was staring straight at him from the other side of the cab; he noted the change and let out a warning cry. Face, who was positioned behind the kid, was quicker than them both. He hit the boy with the butt of his own gun sharply on the back of the head. The kid poleaxed and fell forwards across the seats.

"Do I look like I was born yesterday?" Peak muttered as he leaned over him, unmindful of the boy now he was no longer a threat, and took the plastic package that was secreted behind the gun in the glove box. Standing back up he tossed the packet to the pilot.

Murdock smiled. "Criminals just ain't what they used to be, Sundance!" he laughed. Then his face grew serious. "What was that guy's name that kept getting blown up on the train?"

They got back to the car, leaving the unconscious driver in his van. Face snorted. "Murdock it's years since I saw the film. How the hell should I know?"

The pilot pouted but gunned the engine and they pulled out into the traffic. Face took out his knife and carefully slit through the plastic of the package. He dipped his finger in to the white powder and tasted it. His features creased with distaste. "Smack," he confirmed.

Murdock whistled. He threw a glance at his passenger but Face was looking out of the window, his features blank and unreadable.

"Facey," he began. "You just might have lit a neon sign over your head, saying 'Stepford, here I am'! I told you we shouldn't get into this shit."

Peck shrugged, keeping his emotions tightly controlled and appearing unconcerned, he smiled beautifully. "Always said I should have my name in lights!"

Murdock shook his head. "This is serious stuff, Face! If this is Stepford's stuff, are you sure you want to get involved?"

Peck snorted. Murdock had raised the same concern the night before when Peck had outlined his plan and asked him to help. They had their most heated discussion in a long while. The essence of Peck's argument had been the same as the answer he gave now. "Oh yes," he replied firmly. "I've waited too long. If the old bastard hasn't had the sense to die yet, then it's time I did something to help ease his passage. It's time this was concluded, one way or another."

"Let it go, Face – you are so much more precious than this." Murdock said his voice soft. "I don't want you hurt."

Peck's smile was grim. "You better look after me then, HM," he said. "C'mon, I don't want to get caught with this crap in my possession – how would I explain that to my parole officer?"

"Since when did you worry about what your parole officer thinks?" Murdock asked.

Peck shrugged. "Is it my fault they gave me the original parole officer from hell? If it had been a she, blonde, pretty, I may have been more interested in keeping my appointments!"

Murdock relented, as he knew he would. "OK, whatever you say kid, whatever you say. After, can we swing by Blockbuster and see if I can get a copy of Butch and Sundance… please?"

* * *

Face sighed. He stretched out his cramped legs, felt the blood move a little faster through his veins, fidgeted in his seat and then settled back down to wait. He was in the foyer of one of the most expensive downtown hotels.

He glanced at his watch – 11.15 pm. An unbidden wave of relief washed through him. Where the hell did that come from? With a jolt he remembered his dream from the night before; he was going to die at 11 o'clock for something he had not done!

"Shit!" he breathed, admonishing his weakness. This was just stupid – it had only been a dream after all. He still could not remember its entire content only the fact that he was going to die. As this was the last in a long line of nightmares that had plagued him through his sleeping (or lack thereof) life, why was his body showing such a violent reaction of relief just because he had managed to survive past 11 o'clock?

Christ! He could not allow this; he had to find some control. This could not go on. He was strangely relieved to find himself in a hotel lobby at this time of night, at least he had an excuse not to go to bed – sleep, he decided he would prefer to do without!

After he and Murdock had returned from the delivery van escapade, they had both noticed the blonde girl from the cemetery apparently hiding in a car in the parking lot of their motel. Peck had to admit she was an interesting proposition and had decided that he would try to find out more about her. She was barely capable as a spy, being so stunningly beautiful she was always going to find it difficult to merge unnoticed in a crowd.

Murdock had thought it was a really bad idea and they had argued again with the intense passion that only concern for a loved one can bring. In the end Murdock had reluctantly agreed but only if Peck would wear a radio mike which kept him in contact with the pilot at all times. As he sat in the hotel Face moved his hand up to his ear to nervously check for the thousandth time that it was still secreted there. For although he had whined against the idea, when it was foisted on him, he had to admit it did make him feel a little safer knowing that he could contact the pilot at any time.

So during the afternoon Peck had left the motel room and driven around for a while. He had then made a conscious effort to appear to lose her but had actually tailed her, much more professionally then she had managed with him. She had driven around for a while looking for him and then come back to this hotel.

She had left her car with the valet to park and Peck had watched her from across the block. She was young and curvy with long slender legs that seemed to stretch all the way there. Peck felt a long repressed shudder deep inside when he looked on her. 'Stop it!' he told himself, remembering his conversation with Drake earlier. 'You are old enough to be her father at least for Chrissakes!' But he had always been a sucker for a pretty face and just because he had not had the opportunity recently did not mean that he had got over that weakness.

The girl seemed to hitch up her shorter than short skirt as she got out of the car. Even from distance Peck fancied he could see the beautifully smooth thigh that was revealed. She ran her hand seductively along it and his mouth went dry. Somewhere deep in his head the thought fluttered that she knew he was there watching and she was putting on a show. He shook his head at such an outrageous thought and left his car to follow her inside.

He wanted to see her pick up her key but she walked straight past the reception desk and over towards the elevators.

"Damn!" he breathed.

She waited for an elevator and he ducked behind a tall potted plant as she glanced behind her, smiling. When he came out again, she had entered the elevator and the doors slid shut.

He rushed to the door then and watched as the elevator ascended until it stopped on the twelfth floor.

Peck snorted – unsure of what to do. He considered following her up there but did not know which was her room. He also thought about asking at reception but since he didn't know the girl's name, it would be difficult. Sighing he moved back to the lobby. He decided to sit and wait to see whether the girl came down or whether she was staying in the hotel. And he had been waiting ever since.

He sighed again.

"Hey Facey!" a familiar voice sounded in his ear. "You doing an awful lot of heavy breathing. Is there anything you want to tell me about?"

Peck smiled. "Nothing to report, Captain," he said. "Just a whole lot of waiting. How's the movie?"

"Ahh Facey; the last scene made me cry! Sure you don't want any back up, muchacho?"

"There's no reason for both of us to spend the night in a hotel lobby," Peck replied.

"Yes there is!" Murdock's tinny voice sounded suddenly hurt. "At least we'd be together. And I could cover your back, and your front and your…."

"I'm good, Murdock," Peck responded when really he felt a strong tug of longing at his bowels and he wanted to scream at the pilot to come down straight away. He did not therefore put up too much complaint when Murdock seemed to make a decision and said, "Goddamn it – I'm coming now!"

Murdock arrived about half an hour later. They sat for a while and then the pilot fidgeted nervously so he decided to go for a walk around the hotel. Face told him he believed that the girl was on the twelfth floor so he decided to take a look.

Peck remained in the lobby, moodily watching the pilot's rangy form striding out towards the elevators. He glanced at his watch; it was resolutely ticking its way towards midnight. Peck rubbed at his eyes, feeling tired and irritated, he never-the-less still preferred to be in the lobby rather than risking another torrid time with his demons in bed.

"Face!" Murdock's voice hissed in his ear. "She's just left room 1211, she's heading for the elevators, coming your way, maybe?"

Peck flexed his tired muscles back to vigilant mode, leaning forward to get a better view of the elevators. In his ear Murdock continued, "Keep an eye out for her. I'm gonna check out this room."

"Don't do anything dangerous, Murdock!" Face replied. "There might be somebody else in there."

"Hey lover, you know caution is my middle name!" Murdock quipped. Although he couldn't see it the pilot sensed Peck's scowl as he retorted. "Yeah, right! Be careful!"

"Of course!"

"Oh and Murdock – I don't even know your middle name."

Murdock laughed gleefully. "And you love a mystery, Face!"

Peck couldn't summon up the energy to answer so he just groaned balefully. However a few seconds later, Murdock heard him exclaim. "Oh shit!"

"Face?" The pilot stopped. He was on his way to the kitchens to see if he could snag a room service uniform to make his planned entrance into room 1211 more plausible.

Peck's voice was strained and slightly fractious as he continued. "She's coming my way!"

"Your way?" Murdock repeated.

"What the hell am I going to do?"

"Use that famous Faceman charm!" Murdock replied glibly.

"But …." Peck's voice changed noticeably and Murdock felt a sudden sense of alarm as he heard the silky smooth tone. "Hi, have we met?"

Murdock listened for a while until he was sure that Face was in no imminent danger. He shook his head. 'Smooth operator,' he thought as he carried on his way.

Down in the lobby Peck was entranced and considering pinching himself to ensure he had not slid into some parallel universe. His new companion had entered the lobby and made a beeline straight towards where he sat. He had to fight hard to keep his mouth closed and retain an air of confident indifference as she glided towards him. His earlier thoughts on her beauty had been inadequate; she was quite simply gorgeous and a long forgotten yearning stirred deep within him.

She was dressed in a figure hugging, off the shoulder powder blue evening dress that clung to all of her best curves, her suntanned skin was flawless and seemed to glow with radiance even in the stark hotel light. Long blonde tresses flowed over her shoulders in waves of soft curls and pearls shone at her neck. As she moved towards him he looked into her eyes, they were the colour of the sea, shifting from green to blue, constant only in their continual change. Her strong mouth, quirked into a confident smile as she stood in front of him and waited expectantly.

"Hi," Peck tried for coolly interested and wondered if he managed to pull it off. He stood up, noting with her heels she was a good few inches taller than him. He refused to be intimidated; he'd been out with tall women before, in fact he was positively attracted to long legs! His throat went dry but he managed manfully, "Have we met?"

Her voice was as husky with sexiness as he hoped it would be. "I've been waiting a lifetime for this," she purred.

Peck gulped, slightly floored by such a confession, maybe twenty years ago he would have expected such a response but now! Still, couldn't argue with a lady; he forced his most magnificent smile. "You have?"

She sat down on the couch beside him, patting it gently until he sat beside her. Her eyes never left his as she said "Can't sleep. I have far too much energy."

He rolled his eyes appreciatively. "Maybe a nightcap would help?" His eyes were still drinking in her loveliness and it took all his strength finding coherent speech to cover the desire that was kindling deep within.

She smiled and the flame roared stronger. "Yes, that would be nice."

He nodded bemusedly and then, managing to compute her words, he giggled nervously. "Oh yeah, sure!" He signalled the waiter immediately.

A few minutes later she gazed at him evenly over the rim of her glass, wide eyes shadowed with blue. A sudden crisis of confidence hit Peck and he had to really fight the urge to look over his shoulder to see who behind him was deserving of such a smouldering gaze. Easy! Peck schooled himself, keep smiling! It had been so long since he had found himself in such a situation and yet he had been a master of them once. Indeed he had practised the art so often in his youth that even after the time lapse it was as if a switch deep inside had suddenly been flicked. He forgot his lack of belief, his feeling of inadequacy and began to flirt mercilessly, smiling, batting his eyes, touching, keeping eye contact; very soon he was completely at ease and enjoying himself.

"So do I know you?" he asked. "I don't normally forget a pretty face and I cannot believe that I would one as beautiful as yours."

She smiled. "No," she replied. She eased herself along the couch so that their bodies were so close, they touched. Electricity sparked between. "But I can remedy that very soon."

"Remedy…." Peck repeated, losing himself in her softness and breathing in the sweet scent of her. "I…. ah … I…"

The rational side of his brain was lurching, searching for any sort of explanation that this beautiful young woman should be coming on to him in this way, but the rest of him did not care. It had been so long since he had felt this, so long that he felt himself reacting before he could control himself.

He leant in towards her, his mouth opening and his hands moving to embrace her. "Templeton Peck," she breathed. "Man of my dreams!"

Peck's adrenaline was pumping so hard that he could hardly hear, and certainly could not think but did not hesitate to grab her, squeezing her tightly; they kissed passionately. They were entwined for long minutes, tongues twirling and sucking, hands running up and down the other's body, searching and caressing

and …

… Peck managed to get a strong enough grip on his seething emotion to manage to pull away but the rest of him screamed in frustration as he broke the kiss.

She regarded him, eyes flashing avidly but her mouth curled in a superior smirk. She damn well knew the effect she was having on him and seemed to be enjoying it immensely. And yet he could pull away no further, could not break her gaze because he was enjoying it just as much as she.

"Do I know you?" he asked again after two false starts when he just could not seem able to locate his voice.

"Not yet," she purred, her tongue ran achingly along her deeply red lips.

Peck groaned but the vague memory of all the times he had got himself and the rest of the Team into trouble from similar situations throbbed annoyingly at the edge of his mind. "Why are you following me?" he managed.

"You were following me," she retorted, moving closer again.

"I was… I was…" And then she was kissing him again. Deep inside of Peck his whole being seemed to flutter. He couldn't resist it, couldn't fight it… didn't even want to. "You are so beautiful," he managed to breath in between shattering kisses.

"I know," she responded. "And you are all the man I ever wanted."

"Oh god!" Peck whispered feeling his emotions sweeping through him unfettered. He tried to pull back again. He should not be doing this. He was going to blow everything… but it was so enticing. No! What about Murdock? What about the fact the pilot was listening, hearing exactly what was going on right now? He needed to get control of himself but even as he thought it, he felt himself deepening the kiss.

The listener in question was feeling decidedly uncomfortable with what he was hearing coming from the lobby. He had snaffled a uniform plus a pass key and made his way back up to the twelfth floor. On entering the room he tried to ignore what he was hearing through the earpiece, he had sniffed around but found nothing of any great value at all.

Now he was returning back to the kitchen and unable to block out the heavy sounds coming from his lover and the woman below. He could bite back his anger no longer. "Face!" he hissed. "Put her down!"

Peck snorted. The shock of Murdock's voice in his ear adding to the guilt he was already feeling, grounded him somewhat. He pulled away. "I got to …. I got to…."

She smiled, still looking serene and cool while Peck could feel the flash of heat in his own cheeks and the dribble of sweat down his back. She peeled herself off him and stood up, her eyes still fascinatingly fixed on his.

"We should continue this later," she grinned. "Dinner tomorrow?"

He was breathing heavily, patting down his hair and straightening his clothes. "Of course," he said. "What is your name?" he asked feeling like a pubescent boy on his first date.

Her eyes were deep pools of unreadable blue. "Lorelei," she purred.

He gulped. "Lorelei? As in beautiful siren and luring sailors on to the rocks?"

Her smile widened. "My father had a strange sense of humour. Until tonight then." And she was gone.

Peck shuddered, the heat turning cold on his skin. He shook his head in puzzlement. What the hell had just happened?

Murdock rushed into the lobby and pulled him out of his reverie. "What the hell was that all about?" the pilot fumed.

Peck was still stunned. "I honestly don't know," he murmured.

"C'mon," Murdock continued. "It's late. We need to go!"

Peck stood on legs that still felt crazily shaky and followed where his partner led. He lifted his hands up to his lips as if to verify they had so recently been kissed. There was the hint of her strong perfume and he could taste her loveliness but apart from these meagre signs it was as if the whole experience had been a fanciful dream.

* * *

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

"How do I look?" It had been a while since Face had preened in the mirror for quite such a long time as he was doing now. He tilted his head, lightly brushing his hand down his slacks to ensure that the crease was just right.

Murdock sat on the bed, his mouth pulled into a bad tempered pout as he fiddled with a book beside him. "I do not believe you are really going to go through with this!"

Peck sniffed. "Cuff links," he muttered and turned to the small box on the dresser beside him.

"Face!" Murdock said. "Are you registering anything up there? The lights are on but somebody has sold the goddamn real estate!"

Peck's features crumpled with concentration as he put on the cuff links. Then he looked back into the mirror. "Aaaah!" he sighed. "Armani, you know – can't beat it!"

Murdock shook his head. "I haven't seen you this far up your own arse since that time you got that fake pardon. Remember what happened then?"

Peck delicately brushed back his hair. "Looking good," he breathed. "Maybe I should have got that hair dye," he muttered critically regarding the grey hairs and anxiously pulling out a few strands.

"Oh please!" Murdock said disgustedly. "Have you heard anything I have said?"

Peck stopped and turned around to eye the other man. "Of course I have!" he said somewhat pompously. "I have just chosen to ignore it. We've been through this already."

"Listen to yourself, Face!" Murdock tried again. "You must see this is a little suspect, no?"

Peck smiled tightly. "I think you've over-reacting Murdock, it's just dinner!"

"I'm over-reacting!" Murdock spluttered. "I'm not the one wearing the five hundred dollar suit!"

Peck snorted and turned back to the mirror. "And doesn't it look good?"

"Yes, it looks goddamn gorgeous!" Murdock snapped. "But that's not the point, is it?"

"Do I detect a touch of jealousy there?" Peck asked infuriating the pilot even more. "Didn't I tell you that nothing is going to happen tonight? I'm just there to get more information."

"Yeah, right!" Murdock spat. "And I'm supposed to believe that after all that tongue sucking I was forced to listen to last night!"

Face snorted again. "Well you won't be listening tonight! You know my methods, Murdock. You always have. Now that I've finally got a little of my confidence back, you suddenly turn into a green eyed monster. I was always this way – you either take it or leave it!"

"And that's it!" Murdock jumped off the bed, his anger forcing his long limbs to act; he stood challengingly in front of Peck, blocking his way, eyes flashing. "How stupid of me – I thought we had so much more than that! Silly me; thinking that I deserved a little loyalty from you!"

"Look Murdock, I don't want to fight. You're spitting on my suit! I'm going out with Lorelei and that's it – live with it!"

Murdock clenched his fists in frustration. "Lorelei!" he spat in disgust. "What sort of a name is that? I tell you what! Iit's a siren's name, that's what it is. A woman who tempts men to their doom!"

Peck snorted, shaking his head in disbelief and moving to the bath room. "We've been through this already. I don't even know why I'm wasting my time telling you – she said her father had a weird sense of humour!" He said dismissively, as he doused himself in aftershave. "And we're going to dinner – no boats involved!"

Murdock slumped on the bed and picked up the book he had left there. Clearing his throat he read out loud;

_"__I don't know what it could mean, Or why I'm so sad: I find, A fairy-tale, from times unseen, Won't vanish from my mind"_

"Shut up Murdock!" Peck shouted from the bath room. "It's just a dull poem!"

"It's a warning that you're just too blind to see Templeton Peck! All right so it's been a long time since a woman came on to you, especially a beautiful one. It makes you feel young again. I understand that but…

_"The air is cool and it darkens, __And quiet flows the Rhine: The tops of the mountains sparkle, In evening's after-shine." _

Peck's head appeared around the door frame, his handsome features masked with fury. "I said shut up Murdock! You're only doing this cos you're jealous! If you keep this up I just might sleep with her just to piss you off!"

It was a cheap shot and Face regretted it instantly as the pilot looked hurt and upset. Peck reached out his hand. "I'm sorry …"

But Murdock shook his head stubbornly, his voice cutting over the other man's feeble attempt at an apology.

"_The loveliest of maidens, She's wonderful, sits there, Her golden jewels glisten, She combs her golden hair."_

"Goddamn it Murdock!" Peck's anger overcame him. He stalked through the room towards the door. "I am going now!"

Murdock continued relentlessly;

"_She combs it with a comb of gold, And sings a song as well: Its strangeness too is old, And casts a powerful spell."_

Peck opened the door, his face glowering as he turned back to Murdock.

"_It grips the boatman in his boat, With a wild pang of woe: He only looks up to the heights, Can't see the rocks below."_

The door slammed and Peck was gone. Murdock chewed his hand nervously as he finished:

"_The waves end by swallowing, The boat and its boatman, That's what, by her singing, The Lorelei has done."_

The pilot let out a long animal groan.

"Oh Faceyman," he whispered sadly, "You don't know what you're doing, babe!" He snorted but then he pulled himself off the bed. "Well she might be dangerous but I can summon up my own monster. One that's a big, bad mudsucker!" As he spoke, he reached for the phone and dialled a number. "BA?" he said when the phone was picked up at the other end. "We need your help muchado..!"

* * *

"BA, watch this bit – it's really cool!"

"You've shown me it fifteen times already!" the big man growled. "And it ain't cool, wasn't cool the first time! Switch it off now, fool! I wanna watch the game's highlights!" But his voice was not as hard or as uncaring as it could have been.

He glanced at the clock – just gone 11.00. It was almost three hours since he had arrived in Murdock's hotel room. He had gotten the pilot's muddled phone call and come straight over, only stopping to pick up Amy on the way. BA had been growling ever since but that was just to hide the concern that he felt – over the year's the pilot had become gradually stronger as his broken psyche sought to mend, his inner strength exerting itself once more. Murdock had pulled himself together winning BA's undying admiration for the way he had re-built his life, even to the extent that he had dealt the best of them all with Hannibal's death. BA knew the pilot's recovery was in no small part due to the support he had found from Face; the conman knew the fragile nature of his lover's mind, which made his actions this night all the more inexplicable. BA again fought down the exasperated flush of anger that rushed through him. It was the same feeling he had felt on the phone hours previously – it was a long time since he had heard Murdock so distressed and torn apart. The big man resisted the urge to thump something; he would save his strength until Peck returned and he better have a damn good reason for screwing up the pilot again – if it was for his own selfish pleasure then BA was going to have to dish out his own particular brand of punishment. Flexing his muscles the big man satisfied himself by sending a frustrated glance toward Amy.

The reporter was sitting quietly on the chair close to the bathroom door, her glassy glance was towards the TV but she was seeing none of the exploits of Butch and Sundance that Murdock was showing them. She smiled sadly at BA, knowing that she shared his disquiet; his disbelief at what the sobbing Murdock had disclosed when they had first arrived. He was quieter now, seemingly engrossed in the cowboy film but his face was still pale, his eyes lacking their normal maniacal glint and his slender hands fiddling nervously with the remote.

"You need another drink, Murdock?" she asked.

The pilot smiled somewhat despondently. "I'm good," he responded. "You guys don't need to stay," he continued hesitantly, brushing at his thinning hair nervously. "I'll be OK – I was just a little …eh.. you know… but I'll be fine now. You guys got other things to do, I know."

BA snorted. "Other things taken care of. I ain't going nowhere, not till I find out what's going on with Faceman!"

"BA's right, Murdock," Amy agreed. "You were really upset – it's not fair that Face should get away with that. We all know that sometimes he's not the most selfless individual in the world but he's out of order this time."

BA slammed one of his big fists into the other. "Man gonna pay!" he growled.

"No," Murdock sighed. "He's got his reasons and they're good ones. He told me I knew what he was like when I got into this and I did. Hell, I've had thirty years to find out haven't I? It's not what he did to me that freaked me out, it's the position he's putting himself in. He's in danger; I can feel it and he won't listen to me."

"All the more reason for us to stay and talk to him too, then!" Amy pressed. "And I can make enquiries about this 'Lorelei' tomorrow at the paper."

"He's a good man," Murdock continued so softly it was difficult to hear his words. "He just needs to be loved, it's a desperate burning deep inside him that I thought I could satisfy but maybe it's too much for any one person. You know how deep he keeps it hidden but once in a while it sneaks out, wells to the surface and he can't keep the little boy inside controlled. Then he's more susceptible than the rest of us, and then he becomes more gullible than the greenest mark. Hannibal knew how to control it, how to keep him safe and I thought I could." He sighed sadly, shaking his head. "It's a long time since a beautiful woman came on to him, I should have guessed he wouldn't be able to resist it – his 'need-to-be-loved gene' is just too powerful."

"Murdock," Amy moved across the room gracefully and sat down on the bed, taking the pilot's hands in her own. "All you say is true and part of an explanation but you can't take the responsibility from him completely. Sure he had a bad childhood, sure he likes to be babied and loved but that does not excuse the fact that he made a commitment to you."

"But this is Face we are talking about!"

"Yes it is! And it's about time he grew up enough to live up to his responsibilities. I love him to bits but what he did to you tonight is just not fair. We, all of us, have allowed him to duck too much, maybe because he was doing it to other people but now he's doing it to you Murdock, one of our own and we won't, we can't, allow him to get away with it."

"She's right, Murdock," BA added. "Ain't that the reason why it took you thirty years to commit in the first place?"

Murdock smiled and squeezed Amy's hands tightly. "She is right but no, BA, you're not," he responded. "It took me thirty years cos I was scared it would turn out to be as good as I hoped it would."

Amy fixed him with a curious stare. "And was it?" she asked, unable to keep the journalist in her under wraps.

Murdock's smile was truly wicked. "Oh yes!" he breathed. "Better than even I imagined which is why I forgive him too much."

Amy was about to ask more but the throaty growl of a powerful engine pulling up outside the window and causing the flimsy motel walls to quiver silenced her.

BA threw a questioning glance at Murdock. "Ain't no rental," he murmured.

Murdock's smile widened even further. "Dodge Viper," he said. "Face rolled up in it earlier. God knows where he scammed it!"

BA shook his head as Amy smirked, "Another boy racer car – he is never going to grow up!" she muttered despairingly.

The click of the key in the lock was followed by the door opening and a greying blond head peering somewhat suspiciously into the room. "BA? Amy?" Face said. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Murdock was upset…" Amy began before BA butted in, cracking his knuckles and moving menacingly towards Peck. "You went out on a date, man! A date!"

Peck stepped back, gulping nervously and raising his hands. "It wasn't a date!" he started.

BA stopped and simply stared, his dark eyes running the length of the man in front of him, taking in the five hundred dollar suit, the expensive footwear, the flash of gold at his cuffs, and most damning of all, the smudge of bright red lipstick on Peck's left cheek.

"All right, I know that it may look that way!" Peck snapped. Catching a glimpse of his face in the mirror he belatedly tried to wipe away the evidence.

BA snorted. "Don't give me your jibber-jabber," he growled. "Known you long enough to know when you lying!" He took another step forward.

"I'm not lying!" Peck retorted, trying for a belligerent tone but stepping back towards the door just in case. "I was working!"

"Working!" BA's voice dripped with incredulity.

"Working?" Amy said.

"Working!" Face repeated more forcefully.

"At dinner with this 'Lorelei' woman?" Amy pressed.

Peck nodded, straightening his jacket, now going for indignation. "Of course – information is power, Amy!"

"And what about lipstick?"

Peck snorted. "For god's sake! I had to probe a little."

"Probe?" Amy repeated. "Would that be with your tongue then?"

Peck skewered her with his most withering stare. "Contrary to popular opinion," he began, somewhat haughtily. "I do not screw everything with a pulse that comes on to me!"

BA let out a growl and Amy held Peck's stare as she bit back. "Oh no? When did that particular change in strategy take place, then?"

"Funny!" Peck spat, his eyes flashing angrily.

Murdock had remained quietly sitting on the bed but now he lifted his hands and stood up, lips pursed as if trying to understand something of great complexity. "Quiet, children," he intoned, steepling his fingers together. "Please, quiet. We gain nothing from this. Instead maybe Templeton would like to share with us the nature of this information that he so altruistically risked everything for." It was said in such a bland tone that anyone who did not know the pilot would have been forgiven for thinking he felt no emotion over the situation but the three people in the room who knew him well understood what his brittle voice hid and could not help but be moved by it. All three looked at him sharply. "I'm waiting," he continued.

Peck gulped. "I… ah ..well.. she…" he stopped, his words stolen from him by the sheer intensity of the pilot's gaze. Only then did Peck truly begin to see what his earlier actions had cost his lover.

"I… ah …well.. she!" Murdock parroted. "Well that was worth destroying a relationship thirty years in the making, wasn't it?" He stood up, moved to the door but stopped in front of Peck.

"Murdock, I…"

"No!" again Murdock's voice was one of command, demanding attention. He gently placed his finger on Peck's lips. "I know the power of your golden tongue, Faceyman. I know you can talk your way out of this and I know that I will forgive you but allow me this pain for it's the only way I have to make you understand just how much you can hurt me by just doing what comes naturally to you." He moved outside.

BA stood up in a flurry of muscle and gold. "Fool needs a friend," he muttered as he followed Murdock out of the room.

Peck stood motionlessly for a whole minute. "You gonna leave me too?" he asked finally.

Amy sighed. "You probably deserve it," she said. "But BA can look after Murdock, I figure maybe I should stay here awhile."

Peck bit his lip and nodded. "I came back early," he began. "Not that it matters now but I didn't enjoy tonight. She was pretty all right and young and full of life but something wasn't right. I missed Murdock." He let out a long groan and sat down on the chair near the bathroom door.

Amy nodded. "You're telling the wrong person," she said. "Murdock needs to hear it."

Face ran his hand through his hair, leant forwards to rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I was going to but…" he shrugged impotently. Mumbling he looked down at the floor. "Doesn't really matter does it? I did go out with her, I did enjoy the fact that she found me attractive, I maybe even did want her."

"Of course it matters, Face! Christ you're not a saint. Murdock knows you. He'll forgive you."

"She made me feel like an old man. Out of place somehow, ancient … I …" he stopped again. His eyes were moist and wide as they came up to meet Amy's. "I didn't belong." He let out a dry, humourless chuckle. "All my life I've been trying to get into places like that with beautiful women, trying to be accepted. She could have been my ticket in there finally but in the end I didn't even have the balls to take it, to make my dream come true. Guess it's a sign that I really am a failure."

"Face!" Amy's voice was honeyed with genuine affection as she moved to envelope his miserable form in a compassionate embrace. "Maybe it's a sign that you're dreams have changed; that you're growing up!"

He snorted ruefully at that but accepted her support. She gently ran her hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes. "It's about time," she said truthfully.

He nodded. "I didn't want to hurt Murdock. I never meant that."

"I know and he knows too. He's good for you Face and you're good for him."

"I can change; I can be what he wants me to be!" The blue eyes, ingenuous as a child's, were wide with pleading.

Amy shook her head. "He loves you for what you are, why is it so hard for you to believe that, Face? Stop living up to your own legend, you fool nobody except yourself. Accept that you're older, the things you needed in your youth, you do not need now. Accept that you have changed naturally through experience and age but most of all accept that Murdock will love you even though you have changed."

Peck sighed. They were silent for a time. "He'll be OK, won't he?" Face said finally.

"That rather depends on you, Face," Amy moved away. "He's given you his heart, that's very precious and you need to look after it."

Peck nodded. "Never had anybody's heart before, not truly, other things were always more important to people than me." He sighed again. "I wish he hadn't."

Amy smiled. "No you don't."

He matched her smile and doubled it. "OK, maybe not," he conceded. "But it sure makes things difficult!"

"Nobody ever said it was going to be easy, Face! Now come on tell me about this 'Lorelei' woman. Why was she following you?"

"Surely you're not conceding that I did get some useful information this evening?" his eyes twinkled mischievously. "That my whole night wasn't spent in pure hedonistic self satisfaction?"

She smiled, allowing him his small victory – it was but a small price to pay. "I know you Face," she said, shamelessly soothing his wounded ego a little more. "You're a smooth operator and you never give up until you've got what you want. So spill!"

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Authors Notes: **LORELEI: According to German legend, there was once a beautiful young maiden, named Lorelei, who threw herself headlong into the river in despair over a faithless lover. Upon her death she was transformed into a siren and could from that time on be heard singing on a rock along the Rhine River, near St. Goar. Her hypnotic music lured sailors to their death. The legend is based on an echoing rock with that name near Sankt Goarshausen, Germany. The translation of the myth used here is Heine's "Die Lorelay" edited by Grey Star.

BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID: Murdock's fixation film referred to is the 1969 George Roy Hill film starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford. (Also appearing in it was Strother Martin who starred in the 1973 film SSSSSSS with a certain Dirk Benedict – small world innit?) I have asked no-body's permission to refer to this film and hope no-body is going to sue me!

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6**

"How come you always whined when Hannibal said 'let's go in the front door!' and yet here we are doing exactly the same thing?" Murdock whispered, shifting his position slightly.

Peck rolled his eyes. "I did not always whine!" he countered. "I don't whine – I make positive strategic contributions. And, on this occasion, I happen to believe that this is the correct approach to take."

"Always sounded like whining to me!" Murdock pouted.

Since their quarrel two nights previously they had been living in a nebulous situation where each of them refused to come out and speak plainly about their feelings but each acknowledged that they needed to get along to finish the job. It had not, however, stopped Murdock from taking each and every opening that arose and having a cheap pot shot at Peck, as he was doing now. Still feeling guilty over his actions, the conman had decided not to fight back but to take each verbal attack with good grace. His patience however was wearing thin and he spat his defence on this occasion before he had thought sufficiently about what he was doing.

Face bit back the further wounding response that came to his lips. He didn't want to hurt Murdock, had never wanted that and useless sniping at each other would not help the situation. If it made Murdock feel better then it was OK, he was the injured party after all. Never one to take the moral high ground unless he could see a specific advantage for himself in it, Peck saw his silent acceptance of everything that the pilot threw at him as simply his recognition that he deserved the punishment for his own unreasonable actions.

They needed to talk candidly and at length, both knew it but equally neither felt strong enough yet to broach the subject; each man terrified that the outcome may be even worse than the tenuous present in which they found themselves. So putting the moment off and ignoring the advice of everyone else they had planned to carry on the mission regardless. As they hid behind a delivery truck watching the compound in front, both of them somewhat gratefully accepted that the meaningful talking would have to wait awhile.

"Ssssh!" BA eased his way down beside them. "I could hear you two fools jabbering a mile away. You want to blow this?"

"No!" Peck hissed back. "Here's how we do it. BA take the right, Murdock the left, I'll go through the middle. Simple in and out as we planned. OK?"

"OK!" replied BA.

Murdock merely pouted like a little boy.

Face snorted in frustration. "OK, Murdock?" he repeated.

The pilot nodded slowly. "Suppose," he breathed.

"Let's go, then!"

They peeled out from behind the truck, each picking his way to exploit all the areas of cover towards the main double doors. The plan was simple; to gain entry, find and destroy any drugs that they found there and then leave. But the plan was about to go disastrously wrong!

As they neared the doors Peck could see he would have to break cover in order to cross an empty patch of the yard. He glanced across at Murdock who was inching his way along the side of a truck. As if sensing the other's silent call Murdock's eyes came up to fix on Peck. Years of working together had given them an understanding that transcended words. Peck glanced towards the space and Murdock nodded his understanding.

As Face ran forward, Murdock stepped out from his hiding place, machine gun ready to cover his friend. Neither of them expected there to be any resistance, after all nobody knew they were coming. Neither of them was prepared for the shuddering staccato of the gun that cracked through the air.

Peck froze in mid stride, throwing himself to the left and rolling for cover. He glanced back over his shoulder and his bowels lurched painfully deep inside. Murdock was lying on his back, his gun discarded away to his left.

"Murdock!" Peck hissed.

The gunfire started again. This time coming from in front of them but also from over to the right. BA was laying down covering fire.

Peck gulped. He had found his way behind a pile of tyres and was in a relatively safe position but Murdock was lying exposed having stepped away from the truck. Although the enemy gunfire was currently silenced by BA it was only a matter of time before it would start again. Peck slung his own gun across his back. He took a long deep breath and then he began to run right across the open yard to where the pilot lay. He was unaware of the bullets flying around him and the shouts of both encouragement and abuse. He kept himself focused simply on Murdock, forcing his breathing to be regular as he halved the distance between them.

Finally his grateful fingers tightened around the collar of Murdock's leather jacket and he forcefully pulled the inert body behind the truck. Once there he slumped to the ground, resting his head back on to the truck wheel and taking long gulping breaths, trying to calm the fear that sparked through him.

Thirty years of combat, thirty years of surviving such situations should have held him in good stead, should have meant he could deal with this but as he looked down at Murdock's pale face and saw the blood dripping out unchecked something in Peck snapped.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he said, his voice becoming less controlled with each expletive. He began to shudder uncontrollably, cold sweat broke out of every pore and his vision blurred as tears stung his eyes. "I'm sorry Murdock," he said. "I never meant for this to happen. I am sorry!"

He ran his hands over the pilot getting them as ensanguined as the body of his friend. He was trying to keep control. Deep inside a voice told him this was no way to behave on a battlefield. He should know better and he did, but he just could not stop the tears or the fear from washing right through him. Panic; pure and feral grabbed a hold of him, overwhelming and silencing the voice of the experienced soldier. His muscles went slack and he was suddenly scared stiff. It was all he could do to shake his head minutely and to whisper "Shit!" over and over. After all the years of coping he was suddenly transformed into the pathetic, petrified boy who had pissed himself in the jungles of Vietnam; the boy that only Colonel Hannibal Smith had been able to turn into a soldier.

His heart was beating loudly in his chest, vision dimmed, mind reeling and falling over itself, he was only aware of his fear, nothing else mattered; nothing penetrated the walls he hid behind.

"Face!" the voice hissed beside him but Peck was oblivious. Murdock had come around seconds before, his shoulder where he had taken the wound smarting like hell but the rest of him completely fine. He looked up into the dull lifeless eyes above him and he remembered, a helicopter ride years before, hands petrified to a rifle, soul reaching out for comfort, the smell of mud and blood and piss… "Facey, it's OK!" He tried again. "I'm fine; it's only a flesh wound. Bullet skimmed me, see? Lot of blood but little damage. Face! Listen to me!"

But Peck was lost to him, he simply knelt motionless, muttering almost unintelligible words, gripping hold of Murdock's jacket.

"What happened?" BA seemed to appear from nowhere beside them.

Murdock snorted. "I don't know. Face lost it!"

"Lost it?" Baracus turned to stare into blank eyes, noting the frenzied muttering. "What the? Man we gotta get out of here!"

"Don't I know it!" Murdock retorted. "Help me with him." He tried to move out of Peck's rigid grip but was held firm. "Damn!"

BA took in the whole situation and made a decision. He raised his bejewelled hand and slapped Peck hard across the cheek. The conman's head rocked back but he stopped murmuring and his restricting grip on Murdock was released. He blinked and looked at the questioning sets of eyes that were staring fixedly on him. He moaned, his hand going up to the already vivid welt burning on his cheek where BA had hit him. "What happened?" he groaned.

The staccato rhythm of machine gun fire cut through the air again.

"That's it!" BA snorted. "We go, now!"

He grabbed hold of Peck's shirt collar and pulled him back towards where the van waited. Murdock brought up the rear.

"What happened?" Amy asked as she gunned the motor and they shot away.

Murdock had slumped down into his seat and he gingerly pulled at the shirt around his bloody wound. "Hospital," BA commanded. "Fast." He reached over to help his friend.

"OK!" Amy didn't need further explanation but she glanced over her shoulder. Murdock smiled weakly at her and BA growled for him to sit still. Peck was sitting in the front passenger seat where BA had thrown him, his cheek glowing painfully, his eyes staring distantly through the windshield. Something about his demeanour disquieted the reporter then; she sensed all was not well. "You OK, Face?" Amy asked.

Peck ignored her. "It was like they knew we were coming," he said in a faraway voice. He pulled his arms around his chest as tight as his seat belt and began to rock gently. He never said another word all the time they waited with Murdock in ER and afterwards.

* * *

"So what in hell happened?" Amy asked.

They were back in the crowded motel room. Murdock was propped up in bed, his left shoulder enwrapped in a pristine white bandage. BA was scowling sitting by the bathroom door and Amy was on the second bed. Face was prowling nervously up and down the meagre piece of carpet between bed and window. He was running his hand nervously up and down the angry bruise swelling his cheek.

"Didn't go too well," Murdock said in stating-the-obvious mode. He was feeling a little stiff but having been pumped full of painkillers at the hospital, he could feel little more. "Unless of course having a semi-automatic machine gun mounted at the entrance to your business is a usual requirement for delivery firms in LA nowadays!"

"That's what shot you?" Amy asked.

"Uh-huh, would have killed me too if Faceyman hadn't run the gauntlet and pulled me out of there."

"So who hit you?" Amy asked Peck but he turned away from her, his face twisted with bewilderment and continued his pacing.

"I did," BA growled.

"You hit Face?" Amy was incredulous. "Why?"

"Because I deserved it!" Peck's voice was raw with a dangerous quality Amy had not heard before. He looked back towards the bed, gulping. "I lost it," he said finally. "I saw all that blood on Murdock and I thought…" He stood completely motionless, head bowed. "I acted like a FNB!" he spat the words out with disgust and then turned on his heel and stalked out.

"Face!" Amy called.

"Leave him," BA said. "He needs to sort this out in his head." He shook his head slowly. "Too much baggage!" He stood up then. "I gotta go, promised Aisha I'd look after the kids tonight, she's got Pilates."

"Sure, big guy," Murdock said. "No worries."

BA stopped at the door. "He beating himself up again," he said. "Do him no good in the end."

"I know BA," Murdock replied.

"That look in his eye, I ain't seen that since Nam, in the very beginning. Hoped I'd never see it again."

Murdock sighed. "We'll sort it BA," he relied softly. BA nodded and then left, the door banging closed behind him.

"What look in his eye?" Amy asked.

"I don't know if I can tell you, Amy," Murdock said. "You had to be there and if you weren't it's not my story to tell."

"Would Face tell me if I asked him?"

"Hell, he'd rather stake himself out on a mountain of killer ants than admit to any of it."

"But it explains what happened today?" Amy pushed.

Murdock shook his head. "Nope, but it explains why we are so scared by today. You see you think of Face as a good soldier, a Green Beret, don't you?" Amy nodded. Murdock flexed his long legs on the bed and stretched. "Wasn't always so, Face was a pretty bad soldier, piss-poor in fact, before he met Hannibal. The Colonel he saw something in Face, like an uncut diamond and he set about changing him, redefining him into what he wanted him to be, but the first few times Face went into the jungle, he froze, petrified and powerless, literally scared stiff."

"And that was what happened today?" Amy asked.

Murdock nodded, unwilling to disclose anymore even to Amy. "But why?" Amy pushed. "What was different about today?"

Murdock shrugged. "I don't know. That's the scary part. For thirty years Face has been the consummate soldier, he's watched comrades, friends even lovers get blown apart in front of him. He's had blood and brains splattered on him and he's been abused in despicable ways but he has never faltered, never resorted to the fearful, little boy he was before Hannibal. But today… today both BA and I saw that boy in his eyes. For a few minutes out there he was a blubbering, pathetic wreck. And much as that scares me, it will absolutely terrify Face."

Amy nodded. There was something obvious here they were overlooking, something that was calling out to them in explanation, they just had to find it. She let out a sudden breath as the reason hit her with all the intensity of the bullet that had skimmed Murdock's shoulder earlier. "It's you," she said.

"Me?" Murdock repeated, puzzled.

"Don't you get it?" Amy moved forwards now, animated by her revelation. "You said it yourself; he's seen comrades, friends even lovers blown apart in front of him. But you and I know that Face has never let himself go, lovers he may have had but to actually love someone with all the commitment and complication that comes with it, he has never allowed himself that. Not until you!"

"But he's seen me wounded before," Murdock said.

"Yes, but Hannibal was in command then and Face, although he cared for you, had not committed to you, not like he has now!"

"Committed - like he did when he went out with Lorelei, you mean?" Murdock snapped uncharacteristically.

"Don't be an idiot, Murdock! You know he regrets that, understands how much he hurt you. He told me the other night nobody had ever entrusted him with their heart before, not like you have. He must have thought he had lost you, lost it all. That's the difference; the other times in Nam he was frightened for himself, today he was scared for you. No wonder he lost it!"

Murdock gulped and nodded slowly. He pulled himself wearily off the bed. "Guess I better go find him," he said. "I never like it when he's hurting and we need to talk." He moved to the door. "Thanks Amy – you staying?"

She smiled. "No, I think I'll leave you two to sort out your differences. God is that the time? I got dinner to cook!"

* * *

TBC 


	7. Chapter 7

**PART 7**

"You walk into a door?" Peck asked as he slid onto the plastic seat across the table from Drake, nodding toward the boy's swollen, black eye.

The kid looked uncomfortable and seemed to want to shrink away but visibly pulled himself together to bite back. "Yeah, the same one you did!" He was staring at the angry bruise on Peck's cheek.

Face allowed a tight smile. "Getting safely through doors can be such a problem! You want to tell me what happened to you?"

"You want to tell me what happened to you?" Drake shot back, shifting nervously on his seat. Tension cracked between them.

Peck snorted and looked away. Of course he didn't want to reveal his own embarrassing weakness but he also knew that tactically he had to. Taking a deep breath he looked back at the boy before him. "I wouldn't tell anybody this and if I find out you've told I shall be forced to kill you but I got punched by a big mud sucker."

"BA hit you?"

Face nodded. "I've told him before not to go for my face but when he gets it into his head, he sort of forgets." He shrugged. "Still no excuses, I deserved it – what about you?"

Drake sighed. "I got hit by a big mud sucker too although not such a friendly one as BA!"

"Ain't that the way?" Peck snorted. "Somebody should do something about these violent mud suckers before they ruin our good looks completely!"

Drake drew in a deep breath and found himself unable to hold the older man's blistering stare. Instead he looked across the burger bar in which they sat; over to the parking lot as if just by looking he could move himself away to a place more comfortable. Sensing the boy's reticence and uneasiness Peck suspected he knew its source but he forced himself to wait.

When no further teenage words were forthcoming however, he pressed. "You want to tell me why you got hit, Drake?" he asked softly.

Drake shrugged, his lips curling into a boyish pout. "Cos of you guys, I guess. Van got hit, drugs lost, my name was in the frame, so I took the fall." Drake tried to assume a nonchalant air but Peck could see his barely concealed fear and something more beneath his feigned confidence. He felt a rush of sympathy towards the young man and no little guilt. "That it?" he asked as gently as he could, wishing he didn't have to force the boy.

Drake shook his head and his shaggy hair fell into his eyes making him look younger. "I think you should stop now," he ventured, his voice nervy, his eyes jumping around the room unable to rest.

"Stop?"

"Uh-huh. People are getting hurt and I never wanted that to happen. Shit it was only a job I lost; I can get another one, no sweat."

Peck sighed, nervously fiddling with his tie. "What did they say to you, Drake?" he asked.

Drake's head went down and his shoulder's shook. He stretched his hands out on the table and jerked his fingers anxiously. A stifled sob escaped before he found the strength to whisper hoarsely. "They gonna get Shannon next. I can't allow that… not with the baby and her…"

"Is that why you sold us down the river?"

The mop of hair jerked upwards then, eyes moist and wide flashing with anger, he banged his hands down on the table. "Sold you out?" he repeated.

"I don't blame you, Drake." The wave of empathy that crashed through Peck was difficult for even him, the accomplished actor, to tamp down and control. He reached across the table to lay a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "When we turned up yesterday at the warehouse they knew we were coming, they were ready for us. Bad shit went down and we only just got out but we did. I understand if they threatened Shannon and the baby – I can see why you did it."

"I didn't do it!" Anger turned to indignation. "I never talked and I didn't tell them. I would never sell you guys out, Christ you're my heroes! When they were beating me I shut it out. I thought 'What would Face do?' And you kept me strong…. Honest!"

Peck eyed him for a long moment. The kid appeared to be telling the truth, and long years of being less than honest had given the conman the advantage of being skilled at deciphering that particular trait in others. But if Drake had not told, then who the hell had?

"I didn't tell!" Drake repeated, his features looking more boyish by the second. "I never would, I swear!" His voice was loud and other people from the surrounding booths were glancing across curiously.

Peck patted the kid's shoulder. "OK," he breathed. "I believe you, and I'm sorry I had to ask but I had to be sure. BA tells me that when you want to mend a puncture you got to find the leak first, right?" He sat back in his seat.

Drake nodded, the beginning of a smile lighting his face. "Thank you for believing me," he said unassumingly.

"So you serious about quitting?" Face's long fingers were now playing with a paper napkin on the table, folding it this way and that, his mind playing through the possibilities was completely unaware of his physical action. "Cos you back down from a bully and he'll keep coming back at you – believe me, I know."

"But Shannon and the baby!"

"I understand that, kid. But this can be over with real soon and I promise you I will not allow anyone to harm one single hair on your pretty lady's head. You got the Faceman's word on that!"

Drake's smile was rueful. "The Faceman's word?" he questioned. "The most famous conman in the world's word!"

Face preened noticeably, choosing to take the comment as a compliment rather than a criticism. "And I got to be that by knowing when to play things straight!" he boasted shamelessly. He turned serious. "If you don't let us deal with those bastards they'll always be there, hiding behind some corner, waiting in the shadows and you won't know where or when, not until it's too late."

Drake nodded. "I know but…"

"Hey kid, it's OK to be scared," Face said, suddenly remembering being told those exact same words by a grey haired Colonel who refused to let the smoky fear of Vietnam dull the gleam in his ice blue eyes. A biting ache of loss rushed through Peck then but he forced it away and continued, "You just got to hang on to the fear and turn it into something useful. Trust me – I won't let you down on this."

They held each others stare for a long time and then Drake nodded. "Faceman's word is good enough for me! Now you gonna shout me a burger or am I gonna die of hunger in a fast food joint?"

"You are one mouthy kid – you know that?"

Drake laughed. "Gee I wonder who I modelled myself on."

* * *

Peck was smiling as he got back to his car. Murdock noted the conman's relaxed aspect as he gunned the motor. "Where's my burger?" he asked.

Face sighed. "Not on my upholstery!" he replied. "How come you're driving again, anyway? I thought your arm was still stiff? This is my car remember? And you said only someone who chose image over substance could possibly drive it!"

Murdock laughed, throwing the Viper across the lanes of traffic carelessly as he used the car's excessive power to manoeuvre effortlessly. "Did I say that?" he teased. "Well it is ostentatious but I gotta admit it does give me a thrill – makes me drive like an idiot but gives me a thrill none-the-less!"

Peck snorted but he said no more. Instead he sat quietly letting his mind replay the conversation with Drake and trying to work out who could possibly have disclosed their plans to their enemies if it was not the kid. Nobody else had know save Murdock, Amy and BA and he knew none of them would have talked – hell, they were all involved and in danger if the plan went wrong. So who?

Sighing softly and relaxing back into the leather bucket seat he let his mind go back to the aftermath of the disastrous assault and his conversation with Murdock the night before. The pilot had come out after Amy had left and found him leaning against a soda machine, acting coolly casual having had the time to control the anguish that was so manifest when he had left the motel room earlier.

Murdock had cleared his throat loudly, letting Peck know he was approaching; experience had taught the pilot it was always better not to sneak up on a Green Beret, no matter the circumstance.

Peck had gulped and turned slightly to regard his lover. Lots of words rushed through his head, lots of justifications jumbled in his mind and cold fear bit at him but Face ignored them all. He knew Murdock well enough to know that bullshit would not help the current situation. But he didn't want to talk about it – not now; he was tired and the bruise on his cheek was throbbing so hard he wondered if he had broken a bone. And yet seeing the pilot standing before him an uncontrollable rush of desire grabbed at him. So he fixed Murdock with his wide eyes and said simply and honestly, "I am an idiot." His voice was so soft that Murdock could hardly hear it above the deep thrum of the ice machine beside him.

"It's so true," Murdock agreed, his conversation with Amy still fresh in his mind, he stopped just outside of Peck's reach. "But a sexy idiot, I have to say."

Peck took a hesitant step forward. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Murdock stuck his hands deep into his pockets and scowled. "No, you never do!"

Blue eyes wide with consternation only inches away fixed on the pilot. "Forgive me?"

"Damn!" Murdock swore. "Every goddamn time! I came out here, loins girded, heart hard, mind set and you just turn those eyes on me and I liquefy!" Peck smiled. "Oh, and don't do that!" Murdock moaned. "As if I ever had a chance!"

"No chance at all!" Peck agreed as he lifted his arms to embrace the pilot. "We have to talk," he whispered as he nibbled Murdock's ear.

"Don't I know it!" Murdock groaned as his body gravitated towards the other's commanding touch.

"But right now," Face continued between sweet kisses. "I prefer to investigate your girded loins and though I'm not interested in hard hearts, maybe I can make another part of your anatomy hard too and you can liquefy all over me!"

"Oh!" Murdock moaned as the passion sparked between their bodies drawing them together with magnetic force. "Sex is no substitute for communication," he managed with difficulty as Face tried to suck his lip.

"No substitute at all!" Peck agreed as he gently pushed the pilot back towards their room.

Still the pilot tried valiantly to cling to his sanity as his body seemed to growl its need and leaned into the other man who held him so tightly. "We have to talk about what happened today."

"We do," Face agreed, managing to open the door without seeming to let go of the pilot for a second and pushing him towards the bed.

Murdock sat down. "OK maybe not now but I need some promises from you, at least!" Peck nodded enthusiastically. "Promise me no more dates with other people!"

Peck was undoing his shirt buttons, fingers trembling with excitement. "I promise."

"Even those that are connected with your work?"

"I promise!"

"Especially with mythical women who sit on rocks singing to enthral men and leading them to their doom!"

"Definitely!" Peck enthused as he gave up with his buttons, simply ripped off his shirt and moved menacingly towards the bed.

"Wait! There's more!" Murdock held up his hands. "Mandatory watching of Butch and Sundance every day!"

Peck hesitated, his face masked with disgust. "Murdock; don't push it!" he warned.

Murdock pouted. "You would if you loved me!"

"But once a day – it's too much for any man! Can't we negotiate?"

Murdock batted his eyes and pouted even more. "Love needs no negotiation!"

Face sighed in defeat. "OK, OK," he groaned. "Now I'm gonna make you forget about goddamn cowboys completely!"

The harsh ring of his cell phone pulled Face from the wonders of his memory. He fumbled until he found it in his pocket. "Hi Amy!" he answered as he recognised the reporter's voice. "What you got?"

"OK, OK," Murdock shot him a curious glance but remained silent. "Let me make a note of that," Face said, he delved into his inside pocket, came out with a pen and paper and wrote something down. "Got that. Anything on Lorelei? OK, let me know as soon as you do. Thanks Amy!" He replaced his phone.

"So?" Murdock asked.

"Amy's found Stepford," Face said flicking his pad with his pen. "He's in hospital – cancer ward."

"So what do we do now?"

"We go check him out, see how bad he is and whether he's fit enough to care that I'm still in the game."

Murdock nodded, his eyes narrowed. "Where'd you get that pen?" he asked.

Peck felt himself blush guiltily as he noticed the gold plated pen in his hand. "Erm," he hesitated, and then decided that honesty was the best policy on this occasion. "Lorelei gave it to me the other night."

Murdock snorted, his nostrils flaring with anger. "You just don't get it do you?"

"Get what? It's a goddamn pen, Murdock that's all!" Face spat back. "Stupid thing doesn't even write very well."

"She gave it to you! She give you anything else?" Peck could have sworn that Murdock's eyes were flashing green.

"No!" he said, letting his exasperation spill out angrily. He really didn't need this, not now!

But Murdock was determined not to let it rest. "You didn't? With her?"

"Christ! I was only out for three hours, Murdock and that included getting there and back and dinner! Even I would have been going some to seduce her in that time!" Murdock looked unconvinced. Peck sighed. "OK, I'll give you the truth!"

The pilot snorted. "The truth huh! Don't put yourself out too much!"

Ignoring the snide comment Peck pressed on. "I didn't enjoy it, not really."

"The truth, Face!" Murdock repeated.

"This is the truth! Lorelei is beautiful sure… but she made me feel … well… somehow.. I don't know…" he stumbled along, feeling foolish.

"How come words escape you when you're being honest?" Murdock's voice revealed the deep hurt he felt.

"Christ, Murdock! I'm trying to make you understand! I'm not even sure if I understand it! She made me feel old, old and inadequate. I don't belong with somebody like that, not in her world." He gulped. "I belong with you."

Murdock held Peck's gaze for a long time, knowing that such a confession would have cost his lover dear but not guilty that he had forced it from him. Sometimes the only way to get past Peck's walls was to bulldoze straight through them. Eventually he looked away with a short nod when Peck gestured towards the road in front of them – red tail lights flashed like a Christmas tree indicating a jam.

"OK," Murdock said as he stepped on the brake. "I…"

The ring of Peck's cell phone interrupted once more and he made a gesture for the conman to answer it. Maybe he needed the time to think on what his lover had just disclosed.

"Oh, hi," Face's body tensed instantly. "How did you get this number? Did I? I don't recall."

Murdock arched his eyebrows with curiosity as he listened, gently coming to a halt behind a truck. Peck shifted nervously in his seat, turning away from the driver.

"Look I really enjoyed the dinner too but…."

It was Murdock's turn to stiffen, as he realised with a cold sinking feeling, just who was on the phone – bad timing or something less innocent?

Peck threw a somewhat timorous glance over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly. Murdock just shook his head in resignation.

"Look, Lorelei," Face continued. "This is a difficult time for me. I really have to go. I'm gonna be out of town for a while and…. No, I'll be gone awhile. No, I don't think that's possible – it was fun but… And to you too, sweetheart."

For someone who had great difficulty in saying no to beautiful women, Face had managed it in two consecutive sentences and Murdock had to be impressed but the question still ate at him - was it all an act?

They sat in silence for awhile. Finally, after shuffling relentlessly Peck began. "Murdock I.."

"It's OK, Face." Murdock cut him off. "I know you're irresistible!" The sarcasm that dripped from the words surprised even the pilot as he spoke them and he saw Peck flinch.

"I didn't…"

"It's all right!" Murdock snapped, trying unsuccessfully to rein back his emotions.

"I'll throw the goddamn pen away!" Face tried again.

Murdock's jaw was set firm. He sighed deeply. "Keep the pen. I don't expect you to be a saint, Face! Tell you the truth I like you better this way than the sad, uncertain man you had become six months ago.

"You do?" Peck's voice was tinged with hope.

Murdock smiled. "I do. I know what you're like. It was BA and Amy who said you shouldn't go on the date because of me. I was more worried about the danger you were putting yourself in to."

Peck nodded and ran his hand through his hair. He didn't have anything else to say but he knew didn't need to. They didn't need to fall over themselves with apologies. Suddenly he felt calm. He glanced at the car beside them. It was a police car and a pretty blonde female officer sat at the wheel. Before he truly knew what he was doing Peck smiled at her on full power. She smiled back, so he rolled his eyes.

Murdock noted the exchange. "For God's sake!" he snorted and pulled the car towards the off ramp.

"What?" Peck asked innocently.

"You are just incorrigible! She was a cop for Christ sake!"

"So?"

"You're still on the run, remember?"

"She wouldn't turn me in, not with a pretty smile like that!"

"Face!" Murdock hissed but then he allowed his indignation to dissipate. He smiled evilly. "Besides its Butch and Sundance time!"

Peck groaned. "Take me back to the cops, please!"

* * *

TBC 


	8. Chapter 8

**PART 8**

A dull shroud of mist hung over the streets, blocking out the sun as it rose lazily to start a new day. It was hot already, dew rising as steam from the grey concrete added to the vision of a vaporous mysterious world. Only an odd cab punctuated the silent emptiness, interrupting the vision which would remain for at least the next two hours until the rush of commuters would claim the streets with the madness of the mundane.

Peck liked this time; when the potential of the forthcoming day was pure with promise and yet to be sullied by the stain of future failure and frustration. It gave him chance to think, to plan and to file away into the relevant areas of his mind the things that worried him, the barriers that stopped him from achieving. And as he had grown older he had surprised himself, especially when recalling his youthful aversion to physical exercise remedied as so many things had been by his Colonel, and found that the best time to put his mind in order was when he was running. While running he could logically see his path past all obstacles, be they real or imagined. Often he started to run weighed down by all manner of worries but by the time he slipped into a refreshing shower at the end, all was once again right with the world.

This day he had woken while it was still dark, the dream of dying once again forcing him out of bed; his limbs had craved movement just as much as his mind wanted relief and within minutes he had left the motel, leaving Murdock sleeping peacefully, to pound the streets.

There were many issues forcing themselves into his mind, and a few in particular that he had ensured he did not allow in in the first place for he feared it would be too painful, but now he opened himself entirely, preparing to think through every problem, confident he would be able to find a way to resolve them all.

He started with a relatively painless one – how the hell had the drug runners known they were going to turn up at the warehouse? Drake had, of course, been the first suspect but Peck had been convinced by the boy the day before. If he was lying, he was damn good at it and knowing both his mother's and his own set of values Peck tended to feel that was not likely. So who else? Nobody came to mind immediately because no one else had known. But somebody had to have done it and it was linked through the drugs to Stepford.

Stepford! Peck had scammed his way into the hospital ward that Amy had given him the details for the day before, the previous evening. The experience had brought frighteningly painful memories of the night he had gone to see Hannibal for that final time. As on that occasion Peck had donned a nursing orderly's uniform and conned his way into the room. Fighting back the memory he had seen Stepford in much the same state Hannibal had been in – pale, grey, almost lifeless, hooked up to so many machines with connecting pipes protruding from all parts of his body.

Peck had stood motionless as he bit back his emotion, forcing himself to glance at the patient's notes. He did not need seven years at med school to ascertain that Stepford was on the way out – exit stage left with no chance of an encore. A sense of relief had washed through the conman then. It looked like one of his problems was about to die, at least. Stepford was in no state to worry about the existence of one Templeton Peck; he had bigger negotiations pending with St Peter!

Peck had slipped out of the hospital. He needed to make some calls, see who was the man inheriting Stepford's criminal empire. He had to make sure that he was off the hook; Amy would be able to help him with that.

Face listened to his own soft footfalls on the broad walk for a while, simply enjoying his body's physical exertion. He was proud that he had kept himself in such good shape that he could run like this. And thinking of good shapes brought his mind to Lorelei. She really had it bad it seemed. For, since the phone call that Murdock had overheard in the car, she had left another five messages on Face's phone, all beseeching him to call her back.

Peck had not told Murdock; didn't see the point in disturbing the pilot still more. Sure he was flattered that a beautiful, young woman could find him that attractive. Part of him considered taking her up on her offer but he could not get passed the fact that when he had gone out with her it had not been an enjoyable experience for him. When he confided in Amy he had told the truth; something about Lorelei, although she was attractive, set his alarm bells sounding.

And, of course, there was Murdock. Peck did feel bad about hurting him. He had taken a big step on the beach six months ago- they both had, one he had never dared to take for the preceding years of his life. Maybe he was growing up, finally as Amy had put it. Maybe he did need something more than the one night stands that had punctuated his life in the past. Whatever, Murdock was the only person who had ever allowed him the chance – he could not fuck it up, not again.

He remembered the complete soul numbing fear that had arced through him when he thought Murdock had been mortally wounded. A vision of his bloodied body flashed before Peck's eyes….. stop! He forced it away with difficulty, could not pursue it, even while running. He had purposely shied away from the events at the warehouse because they scared him just too much. And in pushing the whole experience away, he had also ignored the redeeming fact that he had quite selflessly risked his own life to save that of his lover. Instead he dwelled on his inadequacy and crucified himself mercilessly.

What the hell had happened? How could he lose it so completely? Could he ever trust himself again? The harsh question that he had ignored since it happened came to bombard him now. Hannibal would have helped him, Hannibal would have known what to do but the Colonel was gone and Peck had to find a way through this without him.

Did he have the courage? Could he face his fear? And the pressing dread of his dreams what had he forgotten? Why would he believe that his own death would be just punishment for him? What was waiting for him just down the road?

He gulped then, suddenly feeling the muscles in his legs tighten; the memory of the bullet exploding his chest apart creating a physical reaction. Hannibal was in that dream. Hannibal, telling him 'Don't be afraid,' and 'Accept.' What did that mean? Hannibal was more than his friend; Peck had trusted him with his own life on numerous occasions and had never been proved wrong. Surely he should listen to his Colonel now – he would not lead him false.

Peck stopped running, the comfort that physical activity brought him suddenly elusive. Breathing heavily he leaned against a lamp post, letting his head drop as his legs quaked, feeling the adrenaline pumping around his body.

"Shit, Hannibal!" he groaned. "What am I doing?"

A truck passed by, blowing up the garbage that had collected in the gutter. The wind of its passing caused the rubbish to dance animatedly for a few seconds before it dropped back into the drain to lie uselessly once more. Peck felt a strange affinity to the small heap of garbage – he had danced once when an outside force, namely Hannibal, had given him the confidence and the conviction to do so, now he felt as worthless as the pile of paper and plastic in front of him.

"Gotta get it back," he whispered. "Is that what you're telling me, Hannibal? Gotta find out how to dance on my own." He snorted. "Don't know if I can. How did you live with it Hannibal? All those people relying on you, waiting for you to come up with a plan. How did you live with all those expectations?"

He shook his head slowly. "You were some man, Hannibal. What did you see in me to believe that I could ever be worthy of filling your boots?" He was walking around slowly in a circle, arms on his hips as he spoke but as he finished he began to run again, up the sidewalk as before, only faster and with more purpose.

Running always put things into perspective and this time was no different. Though it had not given him all the answers it had helped him put things in order in his mind. And he now saw that his own selfish doubts did not matter; people were relying on him – Drake, Shannon, Mo and Murdock, of course. It did not matter whether he believed he could deliver or not, they did. He had to try to live up to their expectations. He owed them that at least.

And then there was Hannibal; Hannibal who had believed in him when everyone else had doubted. Hannibal who had helped him to dance when everyone else thought he deserved only to crawl on his belly. Peck almost felt his presence then, a support, a warmth so much more ardent than the sun through the smoggy clouds above. He quickened his pace, sprinting with renewed vigour back to the motel – there were things to be done!

He ran with the energy of a teenager, filled with hope and passion and belief. So set on his path that he failed to notice the black sedan, behind him and moving at a subdued speed that seemed to show that its occupant must be following him.

Murdock opened one eye lazily as Peck gently opened the door to their room. He groaned from the end of his toes and then stretched like a large contented cat.

"You look great in sweat, Face," he sighed. "You should go for the macho look more often."

Face snorted as he removed his shorts and top, even though they were stinking from his exertion he folded them neatly before placing them on the floor.

"So good!" Murdock moaned hungrily.

Face lingered for a second, his eyes twinkling with tantalising. "Shower," he breathed finally, wrinkling his nose. "You know how I hate to feel dirty." He ran his hand along the stubble on his chin pensively as he moved towards the bath room.

Murdock pouted. "I could make you dirtier!" he called. Face just made an unconstructive gesture as he disappeared.

Murdock dozed and by the time he had found the energy to lift his head from the pillow again, Peck was shaved and dressed and lingering in front of the mirror brushing his hair.

Murdock groaned. "You look good in jeans!"

Face's smile was confident and smooth. "Face it, Murdock," he drawled conceitedly. "I look good in anything!" He continued to preen himself shamelessly.

Murdock rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his own messy hair. "Wouldn't argue with that," he sighed as he stiffly rose off the bed and bumbled towards the bath room.

Peck was sitting on the chair intently cleaning his gun when the pilot came back into the room. "You look like you're preparing for business, Faceyman." Murdock pulled on his faded denims and a yellow T shirt that had a bright red arrow emblazoned across the front pointing to his left and the caption, 'I'm with handsome!'

"Yep," Peck breathed.

Murdock snorted. "Not good enough Face. You know I need more words from you. Don't go monosyllabic on me again – you know it makes me nervous!"

Peck smiled as he spun the gun barrel. He bit his lip as he concentrated on re-loading the chamber. Standing up he placed the gun in his shoulder holster and then reached for his jacket. He stopped halfway there as the boom of a loud speaker blistered through the quiet morning air.

"Templeton Peck!" The voice shouted. "We have you surrounded. Come out of the room with your hands up!"

They exchanged a worried glance. "Shit!" Murdock breathed as he finished fastening his belt. He moved to the window, and hid behind the floral drapes as he peered out. He let his breath out in a stunned rush.

Face moved too, to the other side of the window as he drew his gun. "What the…." He began but never finished the sentence, instead the words drifted away unaccompanied save for the thumping of his heart in his chest as his throat went suddenly dry.

The parking lot seemed full to bursting of black sedans, parked to create a barricade at the front of their room. There were men, shiftily peering over the cars, guns clutched in their hands and flashing in the morning sun that had finally pierced its way through the grey clouds above.

Face felt a sudden rush of fragility and forced himself to take a deep breath. The scene before him seemed to shudder and he closed his eyes, resting his head on the wall, he sighed.

"Cops?" Murdock queried.

As if to answer the unheard question the booming voice came again. "Templeton Peck; this is the police! You are under arrest. Come out now!"

Murdock rolled his eyes and looked towards his partner, wishing he could sweep him up in a comforting embrace and whisk him away for everything that threatened him. Instead his voice was calm as he said, "It's your call, Face."

Peck gulped and worked on stopping the tremor that was racing through him. He had felt so good after his run but now the exhaustion was creeping into every muscle and sinew like an unstoppable virus. A pinprick of intense pain formed in the centre of his forehead and began to radiate outwards, he rubbed at it ineffectively with the back of his trembling hand that still held his gun. Murdock watched him, eyes wide with sympathy as he took in the hopeless stoop of the shoulders, the tautness of the frame, and the ragged breathing. How much more would Face be asked to bear?

The voice came from outside again; harsher and more forceful. Murdock knew they were running out of time. Still Peck hesitated, floundering with the burden.

"There's not many of them, Face," Murdock worked on getting his voice to sound reassuringly calm. "Maybe we should make a run for it – like Butch and Sundance!"

Face was gulping hard, trying to force down the acidic taste of fear as it bubbled up from his stomach. Leaving the pain in his head, his hand rubbed through his hair fretfully. He turned to look at the pilot, his eyes wide with a stormy glint. "I don't think so, Murdock, not this time," he said dejectedly. "Too many innocent bystanders. Besides they don't want you, only me."

"You are not going out there alone, Face!" Murdock moved towards him. "We don't know who these guys are and I don't see no cop cars!"

Peck smiled a whole million dollars of pure sadness. He reached out and gently pulled Murdock to him. He was trembling as he whispered. "I expect you to come get me. Come save me like you always have in the past."

"Face, you're not going out there." Murdock was frightened by the suffocating strength of Peck's embrace and by the undenying loss its intensity foretold. He tried to move away but Peck held him close. "Promise me, you'll come!" he said.

"Face, I …"

"Promise me!"

Murdock hesitated, mouth wide open to argue but unable to find the strength to reject his lover. "OK, of course," he gulped. Then his mind went into practical mode. "Wait, I got a tracker."

Face let him go with a sad smile of regret. The pilot cursed as he fumbled through his bag. He finally came up with a small electronic device and handed it over. Peck regarded it and then rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Shoe or pocket?" Murdock asked.

"Gotta be safer," Peck muttered as he took up a glass of water from the table. In one quick moment he swallowed the tracker along with a big gulp of water.

"Face!" Murdock gasped.

"It'll be in me for twenty four hours," Face responded dully. "Find me by then or you might find yourself staking out a sewage works!" He took a short step forward then, took Murdock in his arms and planted a passionate kiss full of longing on to his lips. "I love you," he muttered so softly that Murdock wondered if he'd said it at all.

"Face, I…" Murdock blinked.

Peck moved away, giving him his tightest smile. "I'll see you when I see you, pal." He said. "Make yourself scarce – I don't want them finding you too. You're my only hope, Murdock. You always have been!"

He moved to the door. Murdock watched, motionless, his eyes stinging, and feeling strangely distant as if he was watching a movie.

Peck was silhouetted in the doorway, his hands high above his head.

"Throw the gun down!" the outside voice commanded. Peck did so. Murdock heard the faint dull clatter as it landed on the parking lot tarmac. "Keep your hands up and move slowly!"

Peck did not look behind but did as he was told. Murdock moved silkily back to the window, keeping his friend in sight all the time.

Hesitantly Face moved down the steps and out of the shade of the building in to the full Californian sun light. It caught the golden strands in his hair and glittered angelically. Murdock felt his stomach lurch as he peeped out. He knew he should hide but he was mesmerised by the moment and he could not take his eyes from his lover. He drank those beautiful, familiar features in thirstily as a man preparing for a long drought.

"Stop! On the floor, on your belly!"

Peck was halfway between the door and the cars; exposed and vulnerable. He hesitated again. Murdock fully expected Face to whine something about his tailor or his dry cleaning bill but he did not. Instead he slowly eased himself down to his knees on the warming tarmac and then down lower.

A figure peeled out from behind the cars and raced toward him. It knelt with its knee planted painfully in the small of Peck's back and pulled his outstretched arms together firmly behind his back. Murdock thought he saw a slight grimace of pain and the click of the handcuffs through the now charged but silent air was unmistakeable. The figure roughly lifted the incapacitated Peck to his feet and shoved him towards a waiting car. Face stumbled but managed to maintain his balance and continue forwards.

"Don't hurt him," Murdock breathed his pitiful prayer as he watched powerlessly.

Peck was bundled into the car, with a squeak of its suspension it reversed out of the lot and then sped away. Murdock was still rooted in silent desolation, watching as the other cars were filled by men in grey suits and squealed away. Very soon the parking lot was empty and the normal activities of the morning prepared to take control. It was as if nothing had happened, no disturbance had occurred.

Murdock shook his head sadly, he knew differently, of course. No one could alter the fact that the love of his life had been snatched away from him. He faltered for a moment and seemed to zone out as the deep well of sorrow within him sought to pull him down into its hopeless despair. But he was stronger than that and he pulled himself together, taking a firm grip on his sanity and forcing it to the forefront of his head. Face needed him, that was enough to chase all else away.

"Gotta get BA," he muttered. "Gotta follow Faceman. Gotta get him back………….."

* * *

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Caution: Gratuitous Templeton Peck torture ahead!**

**

* * *

**

**PART 9**

Peck was crammed into the back seat of the sedan by the unyielding forms of two sweat-soaked and muscle bound gorillas.

"Do you mind opening a window?" he asked. "It's goddamn stuffy in here!"

One of the heavies fixed him with a stare as cold as metal and then his features broke into an equally unfriendly smile. The other remained hunched, looking out of the window and ignoring everything else that was going on.

Peck returned the smile. "Aren't you guys supposed to read me my rights?" he asked innocently. "I mean I don't want you to get the impression that I get arrested a lot. It's just that I've seen it on TV."

The uncommunicative one let out a bored sigh and shook his head slowly while the chubby smile widened on the face of the other. He lifted his huge hand, fully as big as a dinner plate, and moved it menacingly to rest on Peck's thigh just above his knee. Peck looked down at it and then back into the man's eyes that glittered – the only source of life in the rolls of fat that jutted from his jowls. Peck let out a nervous chuckle. "I don't want you to get anything wrong, cos it might all blow up in your faces later on, you know."

Very slowly the big hand began to close and squeeze. Peck fought down the urge to squirm. He was hemmed in and a rush of claustrophobia hit him as his thigh was painfully compressed. "Awoh," he groaned. "That's really quite painful."

The eyes still bore into his, the smile widening in direct proportion to Peck's discomfort. His vision was beginning to blur as tears pricked at his eyes. He gritted his teeth. "I really don't think…"

"That's enough, Westwood!" A weasel face, framed by dark, shaggy hair had appeared between the gap in the two front seats. Peck regarded him, taking in the cruel deep-set button eyes and the long vivid scar that split the left cheek – it did not appear that this new guy was likely to be a friend, but Peck was pragmatic enough to take relief wherever he found it in situations like this. The guy was asking the goon to stop hurting him, that was good enough for Peck and he rewarded the weasel with one of his best smiles.

The burly gorilla's smile faltered into a look of downright disappointment but he let go of Peck's now throbbing thigh. Peck groaned, searching for further sympathy.

"Shut up!" the weasel spat.

"But I…"

"I said shut up! We're not reading you your rights cos, quite simply, where you're going you haven't got any!"

"But.."

Weasel's less than attractive features had turned distinctly ugly as he snarled, "What part of shut up don't you understand, jerk?"

Peck considering winding him up a little further but he felt the heavies at his side rouse in readiness, so he gently leaned back into his seat, ignoring the resulting pain from his hands still cuffed behind his back and sighed. "Just didn't want to get anybody into trouble later," he muttered.

Weasel's head was between the seats again. "Ain't you real considerate?" he mocked. "But rest easy, only one person here is gonna be in trouble later and it's not me or the boys!" The head turned away and Face heard him say, "Step on it, this guy is real annoying; let's get him to the boss pronto!"

* * *

Peck forced his stomach muscles to relax as the heavy fist hit him once again. He let the air rush out of his lungs and then clasped hold of the ensuing pain, catching it, controlling it, wrapping it up and letting it dissipate slowly, ebbing away to a place it no longer hurt him. Then he breathed in, ready, waiting for the next blow, confident that he could deal with it as he had all the others.

The beating had been going on for a good ten minutes. It was painful but no worse than many Peck had suffered in his time on countless occasions. The punishment was being meted out by the two heavies from the car. Peck had found out their names were Westwood and Thomas. Westwood's features were cracked into his omnipresent idiotic grin whereas Thomas retained his distaining distance – as if the whole process was somehow beneath him and utterly boring. Peck realised they were simply following orders – there was nothing personal in what they were doing to him; man had to earn a living some how and these two appeared obviously lacking in the brains department but amply qualified in the brawn stakes! Still it was interesting the orders they were following – punches were well placed and aimed specifically to cause him as much pain as possible but with as little damage, and not to his face. Never to his face; which made Peck even more curious as to who had given out the orders in the first place.

Westwood's fist came again with accompanying smile, straight into the conman's solar plexus. Peck let his breath out. "Guys!" he appealed. "This is silly. I've been beaten up by some real thugs in my time and I don't know but I get the impression you guys aren't like that. You some real reasonable to me so maybe if you just told me what you wanted, I could save you a hell of a lot of energy. I mean I want to help you, really I do but how can I when you don't tell me what it is you want?"

Westwood smiled and with the hint of apology let rip with another blow. This time Thomas, who had been holding Peck up let go of him. Face's legs crumpled and he fell forward on to his knees with a groan. He gagged violently as his forehead rested on the dusty stone floor.

Thomas thrust his hand into Peck's hair and lifted him back to his knees. "You talk too much," he hissed.

Peck nodded. "It's a valid criticism," he agreed. "But I feel it's a much more mature way of settling differences instead of reverting to physical abuse."

"We disagree," Thomas said. "So save your breath. Our orders are quite clear; you're gonna get this, no matter what!"

Peck drew in a deep breath and sighed it out. "No matter what?" he repeated, allowing his features to fall in disappointment. Thomas nodded. "So there's nothing that you want from me? Nothing I can do?"

"You could shut up and give our ears a rest," Thomas suggested. An appreciatory guffaw came from Westwood to match his smile.

Peck smiled too. "Very funny," he beamed. "But I always talk when I'm nervous – something in the genes I guess. If you would stop hitting me maybe I would stop talking!"

Thomas gave him a withering glare. "You're not in a position to bargain," he snorted. Then he spat onto his fist, Westwood lifted Peck back to his feet. "No deal," Westwood continued as he took his turn to punch.

Peck sagged. "Just checking," he managed to breathe before the next punch hit him.

* * *

"Get up!"

The command was followed by a painful kick to ribs that were already too bruised for Peck to be able to stop the groan escaping his lips. He opened his eyes wearily. "Jeez, is that the time?" he quipped. "I really need to be making a move – thanks for your hospitality!"

It was the weasel face who bent down into Peck's field of vision. "Get up!" he repeated.

"Well, I did think my wake up call would be a little less insistent," Peck whined.

Weasel's fist hit him square on the jaw, sprawling him back to the spot Peck was endeavouring, with hands firmly cuffed behind his back, to climb out of. "Not the face!" he muttered. "Shit, don't you know the rules, man?"

The weasel let out a growl of annoyance and stepped out of the way while indicating to Westwood and Thomas. "I've had enough of his lip all ready. Gag him!"

"Hi guys!" Peck beamed happily as he was roughly lifted to his feet. Westwood took hold of his head by the hair and banged it against the wall. Peck was still seeing stars as the gag was forced into his mouth. He tried to spit it back but a punch to his already sensitive belly forced the air out of him and, as he gasped, the gag was secured.

"Better," Weasel pronounced. "It stays on until he learns to keep his arrogant mouth shut. You two are too lenient with him." He kicked Face hard to the stomach. Peck groaned and fell back to the floor. He knew he should try to get up but he still felt dazed and slightly nauseous. He hated being gagged- it offended his sense of style and thwarted his charm!

A commotion at the door brought his mind back to the present. Three figures walked into the room. Peck gave only a perfunctory glance at the two who flanked the central one, she quite simply stole the moment as she glided into the room, nonchalantly oozing sex. Peck felt his guts tighten and perform a triple somersault which did nothing to stop his queasiness.

"Hello, Templeton," Lorelei purred. "You really should have answered my calls. I don't like to be ignored!"

Peck snorted, his nostrils flaring and eyes wide as he made an impotent gesture with his shoulders towards his gag.

Lorelei laughed at his consternation. "I don't think so. It's time you listened to me. Bring him." She turned on her high stilettos and swayed out of the room.

Despite his predicament and the gag, Peck's mouth went dry as he found a certain comfort in the seductive swing of her perfect ass as it was so gracefully carried in front of him by those long, slender legs. The two new goons lifted him none too gently and half dragged him along behind. At that point Peck found difficulty in picturing a fairer sight!

Concentrate! Peck forced his eyes away to scan the surroundings for clues he could use later. But the corridor was bare and bland and they entered another room much like the first would certain additions. Face gulped as he looked a little closer – far too many chains and manacles, he concluded. He forced his eyes away from a stand in the corner which housed all number of interesting instruments. Better not to know what was there until he needed to, better to feast his eyes on Lorelei's wondrous form.

"Chair!" the object of his lecherous leer commanded.

Peck was dumped on the other piece of furniture in the room – a lonely looking wooden chair. The two goons got busy trying to tie his momentarily free hands to its arms. For form's sake Peck tantalised them by putting up as much fight as he could but his resistance was short lived.

Eventually he found himself sitting, gagged in the chair eying Lorelei who stood before him, her green eyes blazing excitedly. Peck had the definite impression she was looking forward to whatever was about to happen and that caused his bowels to jerk again. He wished he hadn't pushed Weasel so hard earlier – he could have done with the use of his tongue now.

"So, Templeton," Lorelei began. "Do you have any idea why you are here?"

He shook his head and mumbled through the gag frustratedly.

She laughed and moved towards him, bobbing down so that her chest was very close to his face. He tried to look away, he tried to close his eyes, he really did! But faced with such temptation he looked – how could he not? A sudden hot rush of pressure hit his groin. Maybe she was just teasing, he thought; some kind of bizarre mating ritual? He'd known enough women is his time to be broad minded and experienced enough to try anything but the coldness of her tone stopped those particular hopes from going any further.

"You're too easy, Templeton," she mocked, lowering herself down onto his lap, grinding her hips and running her long finger down his cheek. He gulped as she continued, "How many times have you got yourself into trouble? How many times should you have known better? And how many times have you let the heat in your groin overwhelm the cool thoughts in your head?" She ran her tongue across her lips. "You know the ability to learn from our mistakes is one of the things that makes us intelligent human beings. What does that say about you, Templeton?"

He let out a distressed sigh, feeling himself begin to unravel. Almost without knowing he bent his head downwards into the cleft of her breasts, breathing in the scent of her. She was hot and intoxicating and overwhelming; so attractive, so alluring. Her long fingers lifted his head back up so their eyes met.

"What a stunning package," she mused. "Even now pretty enough to be an angel but so easy to corrupt." She bent forward and kissed him through the gag.

He groaned, every muscle in his body tensing, moving towards her. He knew he should not. He knew that she was teasing him, taunting him with everything she was. He knew he should be strong enough to resist. He knew all of these things and yet… there was something about her long fingers on his neck, about her tongue forcing through his gag, about her hand moving to his groin.

A long time ago this may have been his fantasy but not now, he had other dreams, other priorities. And yet that did not stop him. He was tired and beaten. He was deprived of sleep. He was strung out and frightened. He was tied to a chair and gagged. But none of it gave him the excuse to acquiesce to her touch, not like he was doing. Deep inside a little voice was screaming at him to resist but Peck had spent a lifetime ignoring that voice particularly when his carnal pleasure was at stake. It was so easy to take the leap towards the physical ecstasy she offered.

Her hands moved up to fiddle with the fastening of the gag behind his head and its restriction slipped away. Her tongue was inside his mouth, her hands moving up and down his back and through his hair. He groaned as the pressure inside him increased and from somewhere deep within began to wash outwards and upwards.

Shit! What was she doing to him? He was supposed to be past all this! But it was building, building into a scarlet, vivid crescendo…

…. And then, as quickly as she had come, she was gone. Disconnecting, withdrawing with the blaze of triumph in her eye. Leaving him cold and clinging to the promise now lost as his pants bulged painfully.

Gulping back his desire, his voice was strained and raw. "Lorelei, I…." He began.

Her laugh silenced him. "You weak, stupid fool," she hissed. "You still don't understand do you? I don't want you – I never did!"

"But why?"

"Because you have tainted my life, made me less than I could be. Blighted and stained all that I ever wanted. You conceited vain fool – did you really think a woman like me could be attracted to an old dinosaur like you? You abhor me, the very essence of you makes me sick!"

She moved closer again, bending to lift up the discarded gag. He was staring at her eyes wide, mouth slightly open, dazed by the ferocity of her words. He did not respond even when she shoved the gag back into his mouth, he could find no words adequate for the situation.

"I don't want you," she continued. "And no-one else shall have you. I am going to smash you into little pieces. At the end, even after I have reduced you to nothing, you will still want me, your body will still react to my command, it will betray you as it always does. Like it did just now."

She stood before him swollen with pride at her victory. "Drug!" she demanded, hand outstretched and a hypodermic was carefully placed into it. She stepped towards him. "That little demonstration has proved you're willing, Peck. You are still what you've always been – a little whore! But I want more from you, more fun. You'll be amazed and inspired by the effect of this little cocktail - I prepared it especially for you. Prepare to lose what little control you have!"

He began to struggle then, his instincts kicking in and forcing away the horror that her speech had engendered in him but the ropes held him powerless. Taking hold of his hair she pulled his head back to expose his throat. He gulped violently and gritted his teeth below the gag. With clinical detachment she inserted the needle into his vein.

She knelt beside him then, purring in his ear as he felt his muscles go slack. "Never did tell you my surname, did I? Daddy sure had a sense of humour, all right! I like to think I inherited it, I certainly inherited his debts that's for sure and he owed you, Peck – big time!"

Face jerked as his control seeped away and oblivion rushed in to claim him. With perfect timing and just as his awareness tottered on the brink, Lorelei thrust home her mortal blow. "Stepford! My surname is Stepford or is it Stephens!"

* * *

"She's who?" Murdock managed to control his howl enough so that it formed a semblance of words.

"Laura Stepford. Also known as Lorelei to her friends and her enemies – the latter numbering far more than the former!" Amy replied.

"Oh God!" Murdock groaned. "I knew they weren't cops!"

"Faceman in big trouble," BA growled.

They were sitting in Mo's front room. Murdock had roused them all and got them together once he had left the motel. He had ensured that BA had tracked the tracker and it seemed to have come to a stop in an industrial complex on the east side. Murdock had wanted to rush over but everyone else had managed to subdue him long enough to have this council of war – a plan was needed.

They were discussing their options when Amy had arrived, flushed with knowledge and eager to share. Stepford had a son – Joseph, but the kid was a complete waste of space. A playboy he was more concerned with spending his father's money than how it was earned. The person who looked set to inherit the whole of Stepford's sleazy empire was his daughter, Laura. A qualified pharmacist, she was using her knowledge of drugs for far less worthy interventions into the human condition that her tutors at UCLA would have expected or hoped.

"She been stalking him!" BA said in disgust.

Murdock let out a whosh of breath. His voice was soft but tinged with desperation as he intoned, "The loveliest of maidens, she combs her golden hair, she combs it with a comb of gold and sings a song as well. Its strangeness too is old and casts a powerful spell."

"Wha?" BA growled.

"Die Lorelay," said Mo softly, her love for European literature aroused.

Murdock nodded. "It grips the boatman in his boat, with a wild pang of woe, he only looks up to the heights, can't see the rocks below!"

BA stood up and moved menacingly towards Murdock. "What you jibber-jabbering, fool?"

Murdock ignored him. "The waves end by swallowing the boatman and his boat, That's what, by her singing, the Lorelei has done!" He keened at the end.

BA's face was contorted in disgust. "Boatman! What you talking about?" He made to grab at Murdock but Amy stepped between.

"Knock it off, BA!" she snapped. "Murdock's upset."

Mo moved to give the pilot a supportive embrace. "I'm sure it's gonna be all right, Murdock," she soothed. "After all, you know where Templeton is."

Murdock pouted. "Not as easy as that," he groaned. "Only BA and me – it's not enough for a rescue party!"

Mo patted his hand gently. "I think I may have some more good news on that front," she said.

"What?"

"Kyle, my eldest has a few days leave. He's coming home to spend it with his family, should be here by lunchtime."

"That's very nice, Mo," Amy said. "But why will that help?"

"Kyle and his friends are Green Berets!" Mo said proudly.

For the first time since the motel room Murdock allowed himself a smile. "You know," he said, "I like the way your mind works, Mo!"

"Mom!" The relieved atmosphere of the room was shattered by a cry that was a harsh scream of panic. Drake rushed into the room, hair flying, eyes flashing, pants hanging precariously onto his hips.

Leaving Murdock, Mo gathered him up into her arms in the maternal embrace she had been giving without conditions since the day he was born. "What's wrong, honey?"

"Shannon – she's gone. They've got her, mom!"

* * *

TBC 


	10. Chapter 10

**PART 10**

Stepford!

It echoed around Peck's drugged head, and a vision of a broad, tall, muscled man in army fatigues shimmering out of focus leapt ghostlike into his nightmare. Bald head and eyes shining in the dimming light, the figure took a step towards him. All restraint and reason had been stolen from Peck by the drug and he screamed piteously. The life left the man before him then and the background flickered and changed; Stepford was in a hospital bed, tubes in every orifice. Not knowing why, Peck moved toward him, slowly reached out a shaking hand.

Stepford lurched forwards but it was not Stepford, it was the Colonel. But Hannibal as Peck had never seen him before; his skin was yellowing as aged parchment, rotting and rancid, worm-bait, the bones of his bleached skull visible in places, there were black gaping holes where his eyes should be, only the head of silver grey hair told Peck this was his Colonel.

His fright and fear overwhelming, Peck screamed once more. And then the setting lurched again, he was running. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Lorelei bizarrely tottering on high stilettos but still moving faster than he was. He tried to run but his energy was all gone. He was hot and cold, sweating and sobbing, unable to accomplish his escape but aware that he had to do something.

Peck cast around desperately. Everything was so utterly familiar; he was in an unlit alleyway. There were puddles on the sidewalk and the way ahead was obscured by the gloom of the darkening night. His guts knotted as he saw the wire fence that stretched right across the alleyway looming up in front of him.

Shit! He couldn't climb that, not now! His legs were going to give up the ghost and dump him on the floor at any minute. An iced vein of fear shuddered down his backbone as he slid to a halt. Behind him he heard the deep, humourless laugh of his assailants over the raw throatiness of his own laboured breathing.

He turned back, shivering as the hot sweat on his skin froze to the air temperature around him. He had blown it, screwed up again. He couldn't do this, not on his own. He should never have even tried, should have seen that this was the only way it was ever going to end; a dirty, dark alley stinking of piss, a shattered body only capable of vaguely remembering its physical prowess of yesteryear and a cold bullet delivering the ultimate punishment for his over inflated confidence.

"Hands up, Peck!" A voice called. "This is the Police. We got you surrounded!"

Peck started puzzled. But it had been Lorelei chasing him into the alley – where had she gone? And where in hell had the cops come from? Suddenly, again, the final solution of a bullet seemed a better option than the years of imprisonment the police were touting.

Peck gulped, his lungs were still burning and his legs felt like jello. He didn't want to move, not back there. Desperately he glanced around and it was then that he saw it……

….. the smaller alley snaking away behind the building to his right. But this one wasn't dark and dingy, oh no, this one was white and spotless and glowing so brightly through the gloom that Peck had no idea why he had not noticed it before. It promised sanctuary and warmth; an escape from both the law and the bullet. And then the voice came to Peck's ears, enticing him, pulling him forwards.

"Face," the voice said and Peck beheld the brilliant bright figure before him, so vividly drenched with light that Peck could not make out the features. Still he knew the voice. "Hannibal?" he whispered hoarsely.

The figure of light appeared to beckon to him. "Do not be afraid, kid!" the unworldly voice continued. "Accept…"

"Hannibal?" Peck groaned. "Help me!" He turned back to the cops. The memory of this dream hit him; he knew how it would end – a bullet in his chest. His fear was intensified by the drugs, cold and clammy, it rushed through him as violent shivering. He could not let it happen, not allow it to end that way this time. Tamping down his fear, swallowing it deep he forced himself to turn back to the light, and took a step towards it.

"About goddamn time!" Hannibal's voice was calm and firm, radiating out towards his lieutenant. Peck looked about himself, noting the still bright light, the airy atmosphere, but a place so different from the alley. Where was he?

"Excuse me?" he asked huskily.

"I've been waiting for you for months, Face," Hannibal said softly. There was an ethereal sheen that seemed to glow from the Colonel as he stepped out of the direct light and his features, serene and calm and human as before, came into Peck's view.

"I don't…. I don't understand," Peck stammered.

Hannibal reached out and laid a comfortingly, corporeal hand on Peck's shoulder. "I want to help you, Face. I always have."

"But you're…. you're…."

"Dead?"

Face nodded, running his hand through his hair. He found himself unable to pull his eyes away from the Colonel's encompassing gaze. He needed to look around, take account of his situation but all was hazy, all indistinct except the power of Hannibal's stare.

"Why should that be a problem?" Smith asked.

Peck snorted. "Normally it's sorta terminal to a relationship!"

"How do you know?"

"Because…. Because…."

"There are lots of things you don't know, Face; things you could not even begin to believe. But if you won't accept anything else that's fine, accept this one truth – I can help you!"

"Help me?"

Hannibal's piercing blue eyes twinkled. "Have I ever let you down before?"

"You've never been dead before!" Face shook his head as if to clear it. "Jesus what was in that hypodermic that bitch gave me?"

Hannibal tensed, for the first time his tranquil air slipping. "Don't do that!" he hissed.

"Do what?" Peck blinked.

"Stop believing that I'm here! The only way I can be here is if you truly believe. Once you start to doubt I will disappear."

Face sighed. "Hannibal, believe me, there is nothing I would want more that to have you back but it's not gonna happen!"

"Sure it can, kid!"

Peck suddenly felt slack and weightless, as if he was floating. "OK, OK," he sighed, lacking the energy to do anything but play along. "If it's true then what the hell are you doing here, Hannibal? Shouldn't you be in heaven?"

The smile was broad as Hannibal sniffed. "Boring; no cigars and no jazz!"

Peck gulped, his long repressed Catholic upbringing aroused. "I kinda thought there would be no cigars but no jazz in heaven?"

"Well not the sort I like!" Hannibal smiled. "Besides I can't be happy there, not until my boys are safe. You were the best team I ever had and you the best lieutenant, Face!"

Peck rolled his eyes suspiciously. "What about Smudge Marks?"

"Didn't even come close!"

"But I screw everything up!"

Hannibal smiled. "You take risks sure and sometimes they don't come off but I wouldn't change you, Face, not in anyway. Now you are going to have to stay strong; that Stepford bitch is even worse than her father! And believe me, she is gonna take you to hell but you can survive it, kid. You have to keep believing!"

"Believing in what?"

"Me, the team…. Murdock. He will come for you, you know. But most of all you have to believe in yourself. You are special and you can endure!"

Face nodded. His mind was reeling and he was finding it very hard to think through the fog. Visions assailed him of Hannibal dying, of Stepford too, of Lorelei and Murdock. He tried to order them, control them by centring himself on just one thought that he voiced weakly. "Are you real, Hannibal?" he asked longingly.

"As real as you want me to be, kid."

Peck was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of complete exhaustion. "Oh I want you to be," he whispered faintly. "So very much!"

Then the bright, white light dimmed to a mere pinpoint and Hannibal was gone. Peck slept in a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Peck came around slowly, relying on his hearing and touch to sense where he was. He remembered his conversation with Hannibal with clarity but discarded it as merely the drugs working his tortured imagination – he had more important things to worry about.

"Open your eyes, Peck," Lorelei's voice commanded him. "I know exactly how much stuff I gave you and when its affect should wear off to the minute. I am in complete control of you."

Face let out a feeble groan but opened his eyes. His vision was watery and blurry, as images shimmered before him. Someone was shining a light into his eye and then he felt a pressure cuff on his arm.

"All vitals within set limits," a voice pronounced.

"Good," Lorelei answered. "Then we can proceed." A figure dressed in black stepped closer and by concentrating very hard, Face managed to decipher that it was Lorelei. "Did you enjoy that little sojourn?" she asked, running her finger down Peck's cheek, his skin tingled weirdly at her touch. "That was just a little test to see how the drugs affected you, next time we'll try a little more and see what effect it has on your mind. But for now I want you as rational as you can be – we need to talk. Give him some water."

While she spoke Face had been assessing his surroundings as his senses came back. He was tied to the chair again although not gagged. There were a number of other people in the room that hovered on the edge of his consciousness but his vision was still too blurry for him to ascertain their features. His throat was burning and he gratefully accepted the cool water that was pressed to his lips with small sips.

Lorelei watched, her cruel eyes never leaving him as they spat their hatred. Face took the last gulp and then he forced his muscles to relax as he nonchalantly returned her stare.

"My father died last night," Lorelei said dispassionately.

Peck gulped. "I wish I could say I was sorry," he replied finally. "But I wondered why the world felt a better place this morning!"

She glared. "Keep digging, Peck!" she spat. "All your sassy comments and your wise mouth won't help you now, in fact it makes me more determined. You see I made my dad a promise and I will keep it. He was an organised and thorough operator and he sorted all his affairs out before he died. Left me to inherit everything on a firm, solid footing, laid the foundations of a vast empire, that I will see grow as a monument to his endeavour. He left me with nothing to finish except for one small thing. He was vexed by the fact that you escaped his justice; that you ran away like the coward that you are, not once but twice, and denied him the chance to resolve his final issue. You are the only thing he left unsettled."

She paused before continuing. "So I promised him I would do it. I promised him I would exact the proper price from you. I would make you scream so loud he would hear the quality of your pain in heaven."

Peck snorted derisively. "You surely don't believe that heaven is where a man like your father will end up?"

She stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face, rocking his head back. Peck's nostrils flared as he held her challenging glare.

"Don't you dare speak of him with your foul, lying tongue!" she spat.

Face forced himself to smile, pressing his point now he had her rattled. "Drug pushing, swindling, extortion, murder – why would he be anywhere else but burning in the fires of hell for eternity?"

She raised her hand to strike again and he flinched but she stopped the blow, controlled her anger. Her voice was calm as she said, "No, I am in control here. You cannot provoke me with your childish taunts, Peck. I plan as well as my father; you will not get me to change what must be. Now I have another guest I would like to introduce you to."

"I don't want to meet any of your father's cronies!"

She allowed herself a dripping laugh then, the sound of battery acid falling on unprotected flesh to Peck who thought he could even hear the sizzle. "On the contrary I think you will be more than delighted to meet this particular person. You owe her." The laugh came again; as treacherous as thin ice. "You have spent a lifetime chalking up debts, Peck; well now it's time they were called in. And I am going to do that – and you, dear Templeton, you are going to pay!"

Peck snorted, flexing his wrists to see if there was any scope for escape but there was no room for manoeuvre.

"Go get her!" Lorelei ordered and then turned back to Peck. "You are a sad excuse for a man, are you not, Peck?" she mocked as she moved back to him again. He noted the small cassette recorder she had in her hand. "You have always managed to talk a good game, but when it actually comes down to delivering you screw up every time. Let me illustrate."

She clicked on the tape. Peck drew in a ragged breath as he heard his own voice;

"…_..and I promise you I will not allow anyone to harm one single hair on your pretty lady's head. You got the Faceman's word on that!"_

And that of Drake_; "The Faceman's word? The most famous conman in the world's word!"_

Lorelei cackled. "Oh how easy to con the young with your silver tongue!" She shook her head. "All bullshit!"

She fast forward the tape and pressed play again:

"_Trust me – I won't let you down on this." _Face's voice boomed again.

Followed by Drake's; _"Faceman's word is good enough for me!_

"How the hell….?" Peck snapped.

Lorelei smiled with triumph. "Such trust in you and after you accused him of betraying you! How ironic that the leak in your camp was nothing to do with him and everything to do with you!"

Peck felt the seed of fear deep inside begin to grow and branch out to clutch at his guts. "What do you mean?" he stammered, trying to hold on to his composure.

Lorelei tossed the recorder to Thomas who was standing behind her. In her hand she fingered a platinum pen. Peck's mouth went dry as he recognised it as the one she had given him at dinner days ago and he had kept on his person ever since. He felt such a fool as she continued, "It's amazing how small they can make microphones now, isn't it? And the range you can get on these suckers!" She popped the pen apart and showed him the bug in its inners. He tried to keep the dismay from showing on his face. "I knew everything," she continued smugly. "Everything you said. Everything you did!" She screwed her flawless features into a scowl of distaste and taking a hold of Peck's hair shook his head savagely. "You really are a sad, conceited, perverted little shit aren't you? But this time you've screwed up big time and there is no body gonna help you now!"

Peck gasped, his teeth jangling and his eyes moist as she finally let go of him. His vision rocked again, came back into focus on a scene that froze his bowels completely. Shannon, her face pale and stained with tears, her eyes wide and full of fear stood in the doorway, flanked by the burly forms of Westwood and Thomas.

Peck struggled impotently in his bonds. "Let her go!" he spat. "You've got me, you don't need her! Let her go and I'll do anything that you ask," he snarled.

Lorelei's laugh was beginning to grate with its unquestioning arrogance. "Oh you'll do anything I ask anyway – I told you that before. But I made a promise to my father and I will destroy you and any shred of decency that you possess. And I don't care who I damage to do so!" She moved towards where Shannon stood shivering uncertainly. The girl whimpered as Lorelei reached out and gently stroked her long blonde hair. "Just to prove that your word is as useless as the rest of you, I will harm more than one single hair on this pretty lady's head!"

"NO!" Face lurched forward as far as the ropes would let him.

"Peck, Peck, Peck," Lorelei's voice was condescending in the extreme as she moved away from the petrified girl and back towards the chair, hypodermic in hand.

"No!" Face repeated frantically fighting with the ropes so violently that the chair tottered. Lorelei snorted and indicated for the two heavies behind him to hold him. He continued to struggle but it was useless as Lorelei calmly inserted the needle and injected her poison straight into his blood stream.

"Tripping again, Peck – such an annoying habit," she mocked. "Who knows what may happen when you're out of it this time!"

"No," Peck repeated, still fighting but his resolve was weakening like his muscles. He threw a desperate glance toward Shannon, saw she was as defenceless as he, and as the guilt knotted in his stomach, he lurched over the edge into the black abyss created by the drugs.

* * *

TBC 


	11. Chapter 11

**PART 11**

"BA?" Murdock hissed into his radio mike, relieved when he heard the big man respond. "What do you see?"

"Two guards out the back," BA replied. "Nothing we can't handle."

Murdock smiled grimly. "OK big guy, wait for the word." He could just sense those familiar features twist into a scowl as BA snapped. "Of course!"

Murdock turned back to the others. "BA's got the back door sorted, so now we go in the front!"

"Be careful," Amy said as she and Mo and Drake turned to get back into the van where they would wait. Each one threw supportive glances to the four men who shouldered their semi automatics and prepared to advance on to the industrial unit.

"You ready?" Murdock asked.

Kyle flashed a bright wide smile. "Am I ever?" he said. "Mess with my kid brother's girl and you mess with me. Mess with me and you pay."

Murdock nodded – he liked this guy a soon as he met him from the tip of the blond buzz cut on his head to the end of his regulation army boots. They had talked through the plan, the possible repercussions to Kyle and his men's army careers if it all went wrong and the lieutenant had just smiled confidently and said, "I don't like bullies! This needs arranging!"

And so here they were to arrange it. As they moved forward Murdock prayed like hell that this was all going to work out OK and tried not to think of what would happen if it did not.

* * *

"Han'bal?" Face sensed his voice was slurred and weak. He was blinking blindly, trying to force his consciousness above oblivion level so his senses would kick in but he was cold and tired and the darkness promised such comfort; it was so hard to fight it!

But like a lighthouse through the rolling mists the Colonel's voice came strong and brilliant to steer him to safety. "I'm here, kid," Hannibal said and Peck felt strong hands clutching his shoulders in support.

"Shit, Hannibal… I can't…"

"Yes, yes you can, Face."

Peck rubbed a shuddering hand across his forehead. "Drug," he murmured. "She gave me something……"

"I know. How do you feel?"

"Like a goddamn dish cloth! I can't…"

The strong hands helped him up to a sitting position and he felt a cool mop on his sweating brow.

"Breathe deep," Hannibal ordered. "That's it, in and out, in and out, kid. Give yourself time to come round, let that shit get out of your system."

As his sense trickled through him, his memory returned too and he jerked forwards. "Shannon!" he hissed.

"S'OK," Hannibal drawled. "She's over there see, sleeping. They haven't done anything to her yet and we have to get her out before they do, don't we, Lieutenant?"

Face looked across to where Hannibal indicated and saw the girl, lying curled up on her side, small and fragile, blonde hair splayed out on the floor like an exotic fan. Her face was flushed and slightly swollen from crying and her breathing was punctuated by sobs but he could see no other injuries. He nodded, licking his lips and concentrating on trying to move but it was so difficult. He could not recall but he must have been beaten again, his face felt tight and tender now, his right leg was stiff and immovable, breathing was difficult and he sensed the feel of bruised ribs. He lay back against the wall, breathing as deeply as his ribs would allow; moving was going to be difficult indeed.

He looked up and saw the ghostly Hannibal staring at him an amused glimmer twinkling in his eye. "You really get yourself into some scrapes, don't you, kid?"

Peck sighed. He looked at his hands saw his fingers were twisted out of shape, bloodied and beaten. He couldn't remember that happening but they were next to useless now. Still, in the numb

and deadened world he inhabited at least he felt no pain, yet.

"Hann'bal," his voice was weak and lacking fight. "I can't do this. I can't…." he shook his head slowly. "She's won."

"No!" A simple statement but said with such conviction that Peck's head lurched up and he looked into those deep, uncompromising eyes. "She hasn't, Face," Hannibal continued. "We won't let her. You're not done; come on let's look at the facts."

"Facts?" Peck groaned. "I'm beaten almost to death, can't stand, not gonna be playing the piano any time soon, doped up higher than the space shuttle on some shit our friendly pharmacist from hell jacked up especially for me. Got a damned pregnant innocent teenager pulled into this to share whatever grisly fate awaits me." He took a few breaths. "Man; I am too goddamn old for this!"

Hannibal just waited while Peck whined, his wide, confident smile playing along his lips. "Don't you just love it?" he beamed. Face groaned. "Got a cigar?" the Colonel asked. Peck rolled his eyes and raised his arms in an empty gesture. Hannibal sighed, "Maybe not," he muttered.

"Now let's look at the real facts, enough of the barriers, Lieutenant." The Colonel seemed to sit down beside him resting a firm hand on Peck's knee. "Do you remember a long time ago, Face when you and me had one of our talks, probably the very first one, in fact? My office DaNang. Just after you'd gone over the wire and frozen stiff as a statue. Do you remember, Face?"

Peck gulped, nodding his head slowly as his mind was bombarded with all sorts of memories. He picked through them carefully, looking for the right one, forcing his flitting mind to stop, to concentrate. His aching senses recalled it was a close, hot night. The prattle of insects from the surrounding jungle was loud and annoying. He remembered waiting outside as Murdock talked to the Colonel, trying desperately to look nonchalant while the little boy inside him screamed in consternation. And the fear, the frustration about losing his control, about being unable to be the soldier the Colonel wanted twisting his gut. Through the vagueness of the drug he remembered with frighteningly concise clarity.

Hannibal continued, "When I told you runningaway was not going to solve your particular problem? Well, you haven't run away from a single damn thing since than and I'm not about to let you start now, Lieutenant!"

"Run!" Face said weakly. "I don't believe I've got the capability to run anywhere right now!"

The Colonel's eyes were wide with honesty as he ignored the comment and continued, "I told you that you were a fighter, kid. And that you needed to find the right person to bring it out in a positive way. Well, I brought it out of you and proved that you could succeed at something, something that benefits the rest of the world and not just yourself. I proved that you're not the failure you thought you were but that you actually have some value, some positive reason for being here. The light inside you frightened you the most and I showed you it burned so bright in you. I gave you a place in my Team, a place where you were cherished, where you had worth. I did not reject you. I gave you the chance to shine, and that's exactly what you did, Lieutenant. And I'll be damned if I let you throw it all away now!"

"But I can't…"

"Yes, you can Face! Murdock is coming. You just have to hold on and keep the girl safe. You can do that for me – can't you?"

Peck opened his mouth to argue but found himself smiling ruefully instead. "You are still one crazy son of a bitch!" he murmured.

"Crazy maybe, but you're not arguing with me!" The Colonel was smiling also. "So are we gonna do this thing or not?"

Peck held the older man's gaze and suddenly felt safe in the confidence he saw in those deep eyes, safer than he had for many years. No one had ever spoken to him in the way his Colonel did. No one had ever taken the time to see behind his façade like Hannibal had. Peck felt suddenly and powerfully special. "Yes Sir!" he sighed with acceptance.

Hannibal laughed. "I love it when…"

Peck snorted, "… a plan comes together!" he finished resignedly as the Colonel guffawed happily.

* * *

"Shannon!" Peck whispered as he gently rocked her. "Shannon, wake up!"

He had awoken in a heap some moments before, his body stiff and wracked with pain. He had managed to quell the gagging sensation that crawled up his gullet by swallowing deeply. Every move brought pain so he had lain completely still, waiting for it to subside.

Eventually he managed to find enough energy to take in his surroundings. He was in the familiar room but over in the corner he perceived Shannon lying motionless. Ignoring the pain and the nausea Face had forced himself to crawl on trembling knees to her side. He was chained by a manacle around his left ankle to the wall but thankfully there was enough chain to allow him to move to the girl.

He remembered vaguely his conversation with Hannibal – it had happened, hadn't it? He knew it did him no good to ponder over it now. What was important was that he had promised to look after Shannon, whether his Colonel had been real or not was immaterial, the mission was what took precedence, so he focused all of his remaining energy in achieving what he had promised.

"Shannon," he tried again.

Suddenly her body tensed, her eyes flicked open, wide and wild and she began to scream, penetrating through the silence. Peck started in stunned surprise. He really did not want to attract attention from Lorelei before he needed to!

"Sssshhh!" he hissed, desperately throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the door. Realising he had to stop her and quickly, he pushed his hand over her mouth. It muffled the noise but caused Shannon's panic to intensify and she thrashed about manically. It took long moments before Peck managed to stop her and hold her still; even then her eyes still flashed her terror.

"Promise to stop screaming and I'll let you go. Promise!" Peck pushed.

Finally the reason seeped back into her gaze. She gulped and nodded slowly and he relaxed his grip, turning on his most warming smile. "Hi," he said, "I'm Templeton Peck but you can call me Face."

She nodded and sniffed back her tears. "I know who you are," she replied weakly. "Drake told me all about you." She lifted herself on her elbows to a sitting position, glancing around herself. Then as if she suddenly remembered, she looked back at Peck. "Are you OK?" fear had turned to concern.

He sighed. "I have to admit I've been better," he disclosed.

She gulped, tears moistening her eyes once more. "They made me watch, while they… while they beat you." She reached out shaking hands to him. "That had to hurt."

He smiled accepting her touch. "I was pretty out of it to be honest," he replied. "It stings a bit now though!"

"Let me help you," she said.

"I'm fine, really," Peck's voice didn't sound convincing even to him.

She knelt beside him. "No, you're not. Let me help you." Soft, tender hands ran along his ribs. She ripped off strips from her jacket and bound them up tightly. She used his shirt to wipe away the dried blood that had run down his face from a cut above his eye. And then she cleaned an evil gash in his right thigh.

He could remember suffering none of these injuries. Shannon sniffed, "After she gave you the drug, you were out of it but that woman instructed them to beat you. You were bleeding, your head, your leg, everywhere! And your hands!" She took hold of them gently, wrapping the remaining shreds of shirt around then to support as best she could. "She ground them into the floor with her stilettos – you screamed so loud. I will never forget the sound."

Peck gulped as Shannon began to sob again. "Hey, Shannon, it's OK," he soothed as he took hold of her and held her close. "They'll heal. Come on, don't get upset. I'm fine. Let's talk about something else."

She took in a deep ragged breath but nodded. "What?"

In truth the pain was beginning to ravage through Peck as the drugs finally wore off but he was trying desperately to ignore it or at least force it away. Exhaustion too was circling about him like a buzzard waiting to swoop. But he knew he had to be strong; Shannon needed him now. "The team are coming," he said. "We just have to last until they get here, Shannon. You can do that can't you?" She pursed her lips and nodded. "Talking always helps me when I'm scared so tell me about you, Shannon. Tell me what you are going to do with your life. Tell me your hopes and dreams."

She started hesitantly at first but soon her beautiful eyes were sparking with animation as she verbalised her dreams for herself, for Drake and for the baby still growing in her womb with youthful enthusiasm. She rested her head on Peck's shoulder as she spoke and Face closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift.

"Who were you talking to?" The question brought Peck back from his reverie. "What?" he asked.

"After they beat you, when you were almost unconscious and before I slept, you were mumbling most of it but I heard distinct words. It was like you were having a conversation."

Peck smiled. "I was," he replied enigmatically.

"But there was nobody here."

Peck drew in a deep breath, feeling his ribs grate. "I've been in situations like this often enough to know you get your courage where you can, Shannon."

She gazed at him for a while, appeared about to ask him something else but then stopped. "You're a very brave, man," she said finally.

He snorted. "No, I'm as scared as they come I just have the ability to hide it well."

She smiled warmly. "Drake says you're the best conman in the world."

Whenever she said the boy's name her mouth split into a loving smile. Peck noted it and felt the itch of jealousy – had a woman ever spoken his name which such obvious love? A pang of regret hit him as he guessed the answer was no. Then memories of the last conversation he had had with Drake, the promise he had made and Lorelei taunting him because of it, came back to Peck and he felt himself flush. "I have my moments," he mumbled modestly. "Talk to me some more…." he began.

"About what? I told you all about my family," Shannon said.

"OK," he was fighting to keep his voice stable, stop her from hearing the pain that was tormenting him.

She looked at him, eyes wide with sympathy. "You're hurting," she said. "I wish I had some painkillers, something to give you."

His smile was forced this time. "I'm fine. Tell me about… tell me your favorites."

"My favorites?"

"Yeah, color, music, fashion house, film…"

She sighed. "OK but only if you play too. You have to spill some of your secrets – less of the inscrutable conman!"

He smiled at that even though it hurt. His nod was weary but he agreed. They spent the next few minutes going through a long list. Shannon had never heard of half of his but she was polite enough to smile sweetly as he sensed her ignorance and explained tiredly, his pain and the after effects of the drugs allowing him to reveal more than he probably should. She held his bandaged hands tightly and he was grateful for her simple companionship that helped him endure.

She lifted her head slightly and regarded him, eyes wide with innocence and youth. "So what's your biggest disappointment?" she asked.

"My biggest disappointment?" he repeated, playing for time, knowing he had already told this teenage girl more about himself than most every other woman he had ever met, suspecting he should tell no more. But she deserved his openness surely – what harm could it do? She was honest and decent, and she, like him, may be dead within the hour. What difference would it make if he told her the truth? How would he damage their relationship for the time they had left if he lied now.

She was still watching him and he wondered whether she was aware of the argument within him – maybe she was more perceptive than she appeared. He licked his lips nervously, feeling the pain but refusing to acknowledge it. "That's a difficult one," he said finally.

She smiled. "Because you have no disappointments?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Because I have too many. Things I should have done and things I shouldn't have but did!" He looked away from her then and sighed again. "In truth probably the biggest thing I regret is that I will never hear my son's laughter."

"You have a son?" she started.

"No, not as far as I know, and I've been very careful about that – always take precautions, with a lifestyle like mine you have to! And that is my disappointment." He gulped, placing a hesitant hand on the small bump that was just beginning to show in Shannon's belly. "I always thought that one day I would… that when my pardon came, I could settle down, have a family like other men." He gulped.

"I don't see you as a white picket fence type, Face," she said but her smile was not mocking, instead it was full of empathy for him.

"It was just never the right time," his eyes were bright, his smile almost painted on. "And now it's just too late." He sniffed, withdrawing his hand as if it had been scolded. "Hell; it's better this way – I'd have made an awful father anyway; too shallow, too selfish."

Shannon squeezed his hands tightly, put her head back down on his shoulder. "I don't think so. Maybe the man you show to the world but not the real man, the one you keep hidden beneath – he would be a wonderful father."

Face opened his mouth to argue but the rattle of distant guns stopped him. "What?" Shannon asked lifting her head from his shoulder again.

"Murdock!" Face breathed, sitting forward as hope blossomed within him.

* * *

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**PART 12**

BA and the men with him rushed the guards at the back door with cool efficient ease and without even breaking into a sweat.

"Back door secured," he growled into his radio mike,

"Good work, big guy," Murdock responded. He was following Kyle's bobbing back as they worked their way through the parking lot towards the front door where two guards stood casually chatting and certainly not expecting an attack. "Start working through the building – we'll be inside in a tick!"

Kyle turned back to him. "Not gonna get any closer without showing ourselves," he whispered.

Murdock nodded and with one last check of the clip on his gun, he smiled. "Let's show then!" he said. "I've been without my Faceyman for long enough – I'm starting to get cranky!"

They leapt forwards and the rattle of gun fire smashed through the sultry afternoon air.

* * *

"Oh how touching!" Lorelei mocked as she came into the room, flanked by her men. "I have to say Peck your libido is quite insatiable. Really, you're old enough to be her grandfather!"

Peck gulped, moving away from Shannon as his body was unconsciously stung by her words. "Looks like your time's running out, Lorelei!" he said.

She was ruffled, slightly less together than at any time he had known her. She obviously had not expected that Murdock would find him and come. Peck allowed himself a brief grin of satisfaction. "Amazing how small they can make trackers now, isn't it? And the range you can get on these suckers!" He could not resist the taunt.

She hit him hard and he groaned despite himself as his vision blurred and the pain he had so carefully filed away, exploded through his body intensified a thousand times.

Her gaze was withering in the extreme. "You think you're so clever, Peck!" she spat. "But you will not win – I won't allow it, I promised. True I would have preferred longer to play with you but no matter. Do you smell it, Peck? The fires are set, this warehouse is made of wood and there has been such a drought – it's a tinderbox! Your friends won't make it here until you're nothing but ash and cinders. Oh yes – it is you that will burn in hell!"

"Let the girl go!" Face shouted angrily.

"And stop the stain of guilt from searing your soul? I think not! It's been a blast but now I have to go, I have a burgeoning empire to run!"

"Lorelei!" he forced himself to his feet, staggered to the end of the length of the chain that held him. "Lorelei, come back here!"

But the blonde beauty was gone and the telltale smell of burning wood drifted in through the door she had so recently exited with her men.

"It's no good, Face!" Hannibal's voice came from close by his ear. "She'll keep for another day. Right now you have to get the girl out!"

Peck nodded, whirled around to see Shannon kneeling on the floor, her eyes terrified once more. He moved to her, took both her hands in his bandaged ones, felt her trembling like a fragile sparrow. "It's OK, Shannon. I want you to go get help." He said.

She shook her head, moaning softly. She had dealt with much over the last few hours but this was a step too far. She had a deep-seated fear of fire from a BBQ accident of her childhood and this new fear absolutely petrified her to the spot.

"OK," Peck said softly, his mind going back to the jungles of Nam. He more than any understood the feelings that were crashing through the girl, knew she could not be blamed but equally realised that she would be no help to him.

Wood smoke was drifting into the room, filling it with a scent which would be sweet in moderation but even now was biting at the back of Peck's throat and causing him to cough. He looked around the room, taking stock. The gun fire had not been far away, but he did not know how big the complex they were in was, how long it would take Murdock to reach him and whether the fires were between them making an impenetrable barrier. He knew he had to do this himself.

He knelt down and focused all of his attention on the shackle around his ankle. His eyes were beginning to stream and he was coughing frequently but the lock at least did not look a difficult one to pick. If only his hands had not been ground into uselessness and he had his set of picks!

"Shit!" he breathed, feeling pure panic begin to rise in him.

"Easy, Face," Hannibal's voice was there again, instantly calming him. "Stay cool, work it through – you can do it!"

Face looked around on the floor, eyes squinting as they searched. He became aware of the layer of smoke swirling around the ceiling. He pulled Shannon down onto the floor where the air was relatively clean. She coughed a little but otherwise did not move. Face glimpsed an old black blanket she had been lying on. He pulled it close, knowing he could use it, if only he could undo his manacles.

He forced his eyes back to the floor, scanning it. It didn't look as if the room had been cleaned in a while and there were a number of piles of rubbish spaced around. Finally he saw what he needed – he crawled along on his knees to the pile, grasping hold of the old bent nail as if it was the most precious thing in the whole universe. Sitting back on his haunches, he licked his lips as he tried to work the nail into the lock. Damn his battered hands that were shaking uncontrollably, damn his watering eyes that made his vision unclear and indecipherable. Damn the sweat on his brow and the thickening black smoke. Despite it all, he would do this!

"Come on," he began to whisper, grinding his teeth in frustration. "Damn you! Come on!" He was waggling the nail desperately between over big bandaged fingers as he repeated the words as a litany. He glanced over at Shannon, but she was lying motionless seemingly unaware of what was happening.

"Keep trying, Face!" Hannibal was reassuring and close.

Peck was breathing deeply and muttering, so hell bent on what he was doing that he almost did not register when the lock clicked open and he manacle fell from his ankle. He allowed himself a long sigh of relief but it was short-lived.

"Gotta get out Face," Hannibal ordered. "There isn't much time."

Peck nodded but his pain was intensified to such a point that it was almost consuming him. Still he had to go on. He gulped in air, gagging as the smoke filled his lungs. They had to leave and quickly! He crawled back to Shannon, knowing he didn't have the time to wake her; he was going to have to carry her!

Smoke from the fire drifted lazily on the air through the open doorway. Face knew he could not wait. He sighed at the knowledge of what he would have to do. He tried to pull himself to his feet by leaning on the wooden chair but his legs suddenly buckled, and he had to support himself by leaning on the chair. He stayed like that for a minute, until the shuddering in his muscles had ceased. He very slowly let go of the support and stood up, holding himself still simply by the power of his will.

He fancied he could hear the fire roaring now, as columns of flame leapt along the corridor and caught the wooden posts that lined it at regular intervals. The whole building's interior would soon be aflame, or at least the part of it through which he must pass to reach the door. Moving as quickly as he could Face bent down and picked up the blanket.

The smoke was becoming more uncomfortable as it swirled around the confined space and clutched at Face's throat, trying to steal away his breath. Ignoring it, Peck draped the blanket around his shoulders and pulled it up to cover his mouth and nose. He took a deep breath through the smelly material and tried not to retch as he breathed in its stagnant scent.

Then he bent and very carefully lifted Shannon up in his arms; trying to cover as much of the girl's body as he could with the blanket. The girl was petite and light-limbed but Face's strength was ebbing. Slowly, he turned and made his way out of the room.

He stopped on the threshold to check that he held Shannon as firmly as he could, but he knew that his hesitation only delayed the inevitable. The fire seemed to roar with hunger as it came nearer; he could now feel its dreadful heat on his face.

It was only fire, he told himself. Easily sorted with an extinguisher and a little water!

"That's right, Face!" Hannibal's voice seemed to follow him down the corridor.

Taking another deep breath and praying that the flames would not close around their path, clutching Shannon's motionless form to his chest and drawing on stamina he did not know he possessed, Peck stepped forward to walk through the fire.

* * *

Murdock and the rest of his men had been forced from the building as the flames grew in intensity. The erstwhile pilot had been pulled from the building by Kyle and one of his men when they realised that the situation was desperate and they had no chance of moving further through the billowing smoke into the building as the flames began to leap skyward. Murdock had fought all the way, desperate not to leave Face in the inferno but the Green Berets' hands had been firm and he had found himself forced back and away to the parking lot.

Amy and the others had been there too and BA had jogged up with his men. Now the big black man was holding Murdock's spasming body in his arms, fearful that the pilot, desolate with grief, would run into the flames at any minute.

Amy passed a bottle of water and BA forced it to Murdock's parched lips. "Drink it, fool," he muttered compassionately

Mo hugged Kyle to her. "You did what you could," she muttered despondently.

BA glanced helplessly back at the building and his body tensed. "Look!" he shouted.

The group turned to squint where BA pointed, each transfixed

by the sight they beheld. At first all they were able to make out through the smoke and dust was the outline of a shape. A lone figure was walking very slowly towards them through the haze. As it neared they could see that it was a man and lying across his arms was the immobile body of a girl.

"Face," Murdock said softly, as his heart swelled in his chest. His keen eyes though sodden with tears were the first to see their friend and comrade.

The normally suave conman was barely recognizable. Face's torn, scorched clothing was covered by a faded black blanket. His shirt gaped open where it had been ripped to make bandages. A wound still bled from his left thigh. A hole in his pants showed a patch of reddened, blistered skin above the dirtied bandage. Soot and blood streaked his bruised face as well as his neck. Face's silver-gold hair was filthy, and matted around a head wound. He walked as if each step caused him great pain.

But walk he did, slowly.

They stood immobile watching him, frozen in surprise and shock.

Suddenly Face stumbled and fell awkwardly to his knees on to the dusty parking lot. The body in his arms lurched and the girl's head jerked but Face kept hold of her.

Peck lifted his head gradually and looked towards them. All could see, even at that distance, the desperate need in his red-rimmed eyes. In the next instant, everyone rushed towards him.

When they arrived Amy and Mo wanted to embrace Face, but they both stopped short for fear of crowding him. Murdock and BA also held back. Face seemed confused. His tired blue eyes scanned the throng before him, and then came to rest on Drake. The boy knelt before him, his face contorted in sudden fear. He had discerned the identity of the girl in Peck's arms.

"Shannon?" he breathed in disbelief.

Face let out a shuddering sigh as he held out his precious charge to the boy. "She was very brave," he whispered hoarsely. "I couldn't have done it on my own….. Hannibal…."

Finally Mo moved forward, pressed her hand briefly on Face's shoulder, then helped her son gather his woman into his arms. What had so heavily burdened Peck's battered frame appeared a negligible weight for the boy. As he hugged Shannon against him, Drake's shoulders began to shake. Kyle moved to lay a supporting hand on his back as his brother stood up, then they moved away, still clutching the unconscious girl. Sirens wailed through the air.

Relieved of his responsibility, Peck began to tremble. He seemed to be falling in on himself; or was it some sort of drug – was he tripping again? The sun flashed blindingly off the hood of a nearby car, dazzling his eyes; so that though he could make out the forms of other people standing behind Drake's retreating form, but could not distinguish who they were. He was aware of a terrible thirst, and shivered with a sudden chill. Not for the first time in his life, Face felt old; and knew that this time he had no reserves of strength left to sustain him. He groaned desperately.

It was then that Murdock stepped forward and knelt beside him. Peck looked into the pilot's distressed but oh so familiar features and his heart twisted sharply. Murdock was without his cap, his hair tousled, face spattered with blood and grime, eyes circled by fatigue - Face had never seen a more beautiful sight. "I missed you," he murmured.

"You done good, Face," Murdock answered quietly while tightly clasping his hand. "Like you always do."

"Everyone else?" Peck asked, trying to glance around him but failing.

"We're OK – a few scratches and bruises. Shh, Face, you gotta rest now."

Face smiled. His heart swelled with sudden weary need and gratitude. He had survived! Hannibal had said it could be so and so it had come to be – he had to hold on to that. Now he could finally stop fighting. Shannon and the precious babe she carried were returned to her family. Murdock was safe; and the fight was over. Peck could let it all go, and, exhausted, he did. Only BA's quick step forward to catch him in a strong embrace stopped him from falling further into the dirt, unable to keep his head up anymore.

"Murdock," he muttered softly. "Can we buy a house, one with a white picket fence?" BA and Murdock exchanged worried glances.

"Rest now, Faceman, we gonna get you to a hospital!" BA told him.

Face heard his words as from a distance, and tried to smile at him. Though the worst of his suffering was now over, he still had so much to do, but he also understood that it would have to wait. He was too tired to do anything other than sleep now. At the end of his strength, Face could at last welcome oblivion.

And so he did.

* * *

"I just wish they'd chosen a different name – Templeton is so… so goofy!" Face bleated. "He'll get into so many fights over it, and anyway, it's not even my real name!"

Murdock snorted. "You know damn well why they chose it so quit whining! You're fooling nobody, Face – I saw that contented glint in your eye when they told you!"

Peck screwed up his perfect features, looking unconvinced. "But I…."

"No!" Murdock cut across him. "Quit it all ready! We are not buying your protests. Save your breath and do what you do best – look good and smile!"

They were in the back garden of Mo's house, attending the Christening party of her new grand son; baby Templeton, who had been born a couple of months before. For obvious reasons Mo had decided against a BBQ for the party and so the guests were helping themselves to the impressive spread which weighed down three massive tables in the dining room. Murdock, while reaching for a sausage on a stick, had noted his partner sliding away unobserved into the yard. Firmly placing the aforementioned food in his mouth, he had followed him, picking up two glasses of champagne on his way out, and chewing away.

"Drink this and chill man," he continued. "The kid is a Templeton now, one of a select breed and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Peck nodded and took a hesitant sip from the glass, screwing up his nose as the bubbles tickled it. "I've been thinking, Murdock," he began.

"Oh god, no!" Murdock staggered as if under a terrible weight. "I told you to leave that stuff to me – I'm the brains, you just look good and smile!"

Peck snorted. He ran his finger around the rim of his glass and down its slender stem. Murdock watched its passage, noting the damage done by Lorelei's stilettos was all but healed. Face had joked that he would not make it as a concert pianist now; the movement he got was never going to be one hundred per cent but it was good enough.

It was six months since the fire and Face had recovered as much as could be expected. Murdock had taken him on a Caribbean cruise for the past three weeks and the conman had appeared healthy and adjusted. But Murdock sensed there was more. In as gentle way as possible he had tried to talk about what had happened in the industrial unit but his lover had clammed up completely. Shannon had told the pilot what little she remembered but it had hardly filled any major missing parts of the jigsaw. And then there were the dreams – not the terrifying nightmares of before but disconcerting still. Face would mumble and hold quiet conversations in his sleep and Murdock had heard him mention Hannibal on a number of different occasions. Always on waking Peck denied all knowledge of what Murdock had heard.

Murdock hadn't forgotten the weird comment about a picket fence or the mention of the Colonel when Face had escaped the fire. Peck was still hurting, Murdock was sure, but why? And how the hell could he help him if he refused to open up? Maybe now he was ready to explain, he certainly looked serious enough as he chewed his lip nervously.

But when the words came they were nothing like those that Murdock had suspected he was going to hear. "I'm going to turn myself in," Peck said finally.

Murdock spluttered out champagne, almost drowning in his surprise. "You what?"

Peck nodded. "I broke my parole; I'm still wanted. I think I need to sort it out."

"But we agreed you were better off on the run."

"I know but…. Hell, I'm getting too old for this, Murdock. I can't keep looking over my shoulder! I talked to a lawyer – a good one from Beverly Hills, he said I had a good case. After all I am innocent of everything and I got some proof, everything except skipping bail. He reckons if I'm lucky I might just get another suspended sentence."

"And if you're not?"

Face shrugged. "Worse case scenario – five years!"

"Five years!" Murdock howled. "I can't live without you for five whole years!"

Peck regarded him but said nothing more and Murdock knew that his lover had made up his mind. "So that's it?" he spat. "You make a decision that is gonna radically alter both our lives and you just tell me like that. Whatever happened to discussion, option appraisal, debate, sharing, partnership?" He could tell from the steely gleam in Peck's eye that nothing he could say would dissuade him. "You egotistical, obstinate …" he murmured in defeat, further words deserting him, so he turned away as the true import of Peck's proposal hit him.

Face smiled sadly. "Comes a point when you got to stop running, when you got to face up to your responsibilities; when you got to grow up. Maybe I finally reached mine."

Murdock pouted, turned back over his shoulder to look at Peck, suddenly his lover seemed small and vulnerable and fragile. "What will I do without you?" Murdock asked in a little voice.

Blue eyes wide and beseechingly bright then. "Wait for me, Murdock!"

"How have you got the nerve to even ask, Face! You self-centred, stubborn, stupid …" He stopped, stepped forward and enveloped Peck in a deep embrace. "Sexy," he finished. They clutched each other close but Murdock pulled away finally. "What about Lorelei?" he asked.

"What about her?" It was Peck's turn to look away, unable to hold Murdock's penetrating gaze, colouring slightly.

"She got away, remember. She's out there somewhere. I know you too well, Face, you are not going to let her away with it!"

"Oh Lorelei a mythical monster to be sure! She's out there, brushing her golden hair with her golden comb, calling to me even now," Peck's features took on a dreamy quality as he mused. "She'll draw me back in time. But I can't take her on, not yet. She's holding all the cards. She could take me down easy anytime with just a phone call to the cops. When I face her I need to be clean, I need to be the good guy, Murdock. Do you understand?"

Murdock sighed. "Yeah, I do. Just as long as you are planning to face her – it's what Sundance would do."

Peck sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "First things, first," he said softly. "Got to pay my debt to society."

Murdock growled. "I thought you were too pretty for prison!" He let his exasperation out. "And I'm expected to look after things while you're gone!"

On full power Peck's smile radiated around the pilot making that hot tingling sensation run clear up and down his spine. "Please, Murdock, " Face said. "I'll make it worth your while…. "

THE END


End file.
